Wednesday afternoon: A remote island off the Washington coast

“Very little actually suprises me,” Barnabas said, “but I have to tell you, I was not expecting this. How did you find me?”

“I was hoping you’d forget that I knew about this place,” Rainhorse said. “Looks like I guessed right.”

“You have me at a loss,” Barnabas said calmly.  “Tell me how that is, friend.”

“First thing is first, I’m not your friend,” the former Ranger replied. “I know you carry your pistol in the small of your back, so use your left hand to slip it under your jacket to retrieve it with two fingers only. Try anything at all and I’ll splatter your brains all over this clean, beige carpet.”

Barnabas smiled and did as instructed.  He held up his pistol with his thumb and forefinger.

“Now set it gently on the floor and kick it away,” Rainhorse said.

Barnabas did so.

“Now, the piece you carry in your right ankle holster,” Rainhorse added.

Barnabas laughed, “You know me all too well.”

He reached down and grabbed the small pistol from his ankle holster and did the same.

“August 28, 1999,” Rainhorse said.

“What?” Barnabas replied.

“That’s the date you sent me to Portland, Oregon to take care of a mark,” the Cheyenne continued. “Arms trader and your competitor.”

Barnabas nodded, “Van Dorn. Yes, I remember, now. It’s all coming back. You chased him up to Seattle as I recall.”

“That’s right,” Rainhorse affirmed. “I finally ran him down in Bellevue, Washington. And you...”

“Had you extracted and brought here, to this place, until matters calmed,” Barnabas finished.  “That was a long time ago. I had forgotten.”

“Hand over the remote to the bomb,” Rainhorse said.  “I believe you’ll find it in your right jacket pocket.  As I recall that’s where you kept everything of value to you.”

Barnabas pulled the remote from his pocket, “You mean this remote?”

“That’d be the one,” Rainhorse said.

“You know, Rain, you surprised me, I’ll give you that,” Barnabas said, “but did you really believe I would come here without a contingency plan?”

“Cut the shit and place the remote on the floor,” Rainhorse demanded.

“He won’t be doing that,” another voice called from behind.

Rainhorse spun to his right. The voice came from Henson, who was standing about six feet away from him, using a woman as a human shield.  He was holding a gun to her head. It took a second for the face of the woman to register with the former Ranger, but when he finally made the connection, the recognition hit him like a mule kick to the gut.

“June Ann,” he cried out.

“That’s right,” Barnabas said. “We have your daughter. Surprise.”

June Ann was wide-eyed with fear. Rainhorse froze in place, meekly raising his hands in the air.

“I thought this might change your perspective,” Barnabas said. “Please drop your weapon to the floor.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Rainhorse pleaded.  He slowly bent his knees and lowered his gun hand, dropping his weapon to the floor.

“Daddy?” June Ann said, finally. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, June Ann,” Rainhorse replied. “It will be all right.”

“Just stay away from me, you bastard,” she yelled. “I told you I never wanted to see you again, and I meant it.”

She turned her face away from him.

Barnabas laughed, “Family squabbles—aren’t they the best?”

“Don’t listen to him, Gucci purse girl,” Henson said, pressing the gun barrel to her temple. “It will not be all right for you.”

Rainhorse could see Barnabas was holding an old-style forty-five revolver, the same make and model used by Dirty Harry in the movies. If Henson pulled the trigger, it would blow June Ann’s head clean off her shoulders.  He cocked the weapon. It would not take much for it to go off.

“This must be fun for you, Henson,” Rainhorse said. “You’ve always hated me.”

“Always,” he reiterated.

He used his head to nod toward Barnabas, “Because mom always liked me best?”

“Fuck you, Indian piece of shit,” Henson said. “You showed your true colors when you betrayed him for that young piece of tail.”

“But it’s still not the same... is it, Henson?” Rainhorse replied. “He’ll never trust you the same way he trusted me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Henson barked.

“Henson, give it a rest,” Barnabas said. “He’s just trying to get under your skin.”

“Let me plug him now,” Henson pleaded. “He’s of no use to us anymore.”

“No,” Barnabas commanded. “I’ve told you. I want him to see the consequences of his failure.  I want him to see the detonation and then watch his daughter die. That’s the plan.”

“Understood,” Henson said.

Rainhorse laughed, “Still his lapdog, I see. Does he still open the door and make you shit outside?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Henson demanded, “Or I’ll drop your little bitch daughter here and now.”

Rainhorse could see beads of sweat forming on Henson’s forehead.

“I’ll bet he never told you where the bomb would be detonated until today, did he, Henson?” Rainhorse said. “Hell, maybe you still don’t know.  What kind of trust is that?”

“I said, shut up,” Henson screamed. He pulled the gun away from June Ann’s temple and pointed it at Rainhorse.

“Henson!” screamed Barnabas. “Don’t you pull that trigger.”

“I want to kill him... now!” Henson spat back.

“And I said no,” Barnabas bellowed.

“Come closer,” Rainhorse said. “You know you want my blood to cover you when you kill me.  That would be the ultimate high for you, wouldn’t it?”

Henson moved forward, pushing June Ann in front of him. She gasped—tears were flowing down her cheeks.

“Henson, stop… now!” Barnabas screamed.

“I’m going to do this,” Henson barked.

Henson stopped about three feet from the big Cheyenne.

“Boys, there’s no need to fight,” Rainhorse said.  “I’ve already accomplished what I set out to.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I got Henson to point his gun at me and move in front of the window,” Rainhorse replied.  He looked out the window and nodded.

“Huh?” Henson’s eyes grew wide in fear.

Before he could make another move shattered glass exploded into the room as a bullet penetrated the plate-glass window from outside. Henson’s head jerked violently at the impact. June Ann screamed as blood gushed from her captor’s head. His grip on the woman released, and Rainhorse saw his lifeless body slump to the floor. Blood pooled around his head, forming a red halo of death.

“What the hell...” Barnabas began.

“Don’t dive for your gun, Barnabas,” Rainhorse cautioned, “or you’ll take one to the center of your chest.”

Barnabas looked down. The bright red dot of a laser sight reflected off his chest.  He raised his hands into the air. He still held the remote detonator. The madman positioned his thumb on the button.

June Ann did not run to Rainhorse. Her eyes were wide open.  She appeared to be in a trance-like state.

“June Ann, are you ok?” the Cheyenne asked.

She made eye contact with him but said nothing. She was in shock.

“Have a seat on the couch,” he said. “This will all be over soon.”

Rainhorse pulled a walkie-talkie out of his back pocket, “Chuck, you there?”

“I’m here,” he replied.

“Nice shot.”

“You did all the work, moving him into position,” Chuck replied. “A child could have hit that target.”

“Is that Chuck Johnson?” Barnabas asked.

“The one and only,” Rainhorse replied.

“You called the Brotherhood Protectors, I should have known.”

“You’re not the only one who makes contingency plans,” the Cheyenne said.

Rainhorse bent over and picked up his pistol and pointed it at Barnabas, “Come on in, Chuck,” he said into the talkie.

“Roger that,” Chuck replied. “Give me two minutes.”

“You couldn’t have known I had your daughter,” Barnabas insisted.

“You’re right,” Rainhorse said. “I guess we were both surprised. I didn’t know you even knew about my daughter. I knew you’d have something up your sleeve, though.  That’s why I brought Chuck with me and positioned him outside, in full view of the observation deck and the bay window.”

“Clever,” Barnabas said. “So, what do we do now?”

“You die.”

“You have a gun on me, and I have my thumb on the detonator,” he said. “If I release my thumb, it’s goodbye Seattle.”

“So, it would appear we have a Mexican standoff,” Rainhorse said. “If I shoot you, then your thumb will automatically release from the remote. If I let you go, then you will detonate the weapon as you intended. Is that the way you see it?”

“That’s the way it appears to me,” Barnabas said.

“I know it appears that you have me over a barrel. I can assure you however, it only appears that way,” Rainhorse said.

“What does that mean?” Barnabas asked.

“It means, the FBI disarmed your nuclear device an hour ago,” Rainhorse said. “No boom, I’m afraid.”

Barnabas chuckled, “That’s a lie. You don’t even know where the bomb is. At this moment the FBI teams are converging on an old airplane hangar in Auburn, Washington.”

“Ahh, Singer told you that,” the Cheyenne said. “The old reliable Singer.”

“He’s never failed me,” Barnabas said.

“You mean she’s never failed you,” Rainhorse corrected. “Singer is a she, not a he.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barnabas lied.

Rainhorse shook his head, “The FBI has converged on your weapon, stored on a Chinese barge called FOCUS, anchored on the Puget Sound, two nautical miles away from Seattle.”

The smile disappeared from Barnabas’s face, “That’s impossible. Singer said...”

“Singer is sitting in a jail cell,” Rainhorse interrupted.

“That’s another lie,” Barnabas insisted.

“It is not a lie,” Rainhorse countered. “Agent Angela Burk, Chief of Staff for Director Rice of the FBI, has been arrested.”

Barnabas could not contain his shock, “How did you find her?”

“In your zeal to kill everyone in my life you allowed Burk to bring in a former boyfriend, an FBI agent named Lee Michaels. My nephew took care of him and the rest of your men. Once we had Michaels, it was fairly easy for Agent Andrews to put two and two together.”

“That stupid bitch,” Barnabas growled under his breath.

“We fed her false intelligence that the FBI was converging on an old hangar,” Rainhorse continued. “We wanted you nice and relaxed. Once she got off the phone with you, she tried to run. Andrews apprehended her.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you knew where the nuclear weapon was being stored,” Barnabas said.

“And that’s not important right now. What is important, is that in less than fifteen minutes from your departure from the barge, the FBI swept in. It only took them about thirty minutes to render the weapon harmless. In your rush to make this quick, you removed all the security measures making it easy to disarm.”

“If that’s the case it won’t matter to you if I release my thumb from the remote,” Barnabas said.

“Go ahead, asshole,” Chuck Johnson said, entering the room. “Like my man Rain said, the weapon is useless.”

“You are all lying,” Barnabas said. He lowered his hand and released his thumb, looking in the horizon toward the Seattle skyline.  Neither Rainhorse, nor Chuck Johnson bothered to glance. The sky remained calm and serene.

“Dammit!” screamed Barnabas, throwing the remote to the floor.

“Oops,” Rainhorse said.

“No boom for you,” Chuck added. “On the floor, Barnabas.”

“No,” Barnabas said. “I intend to die standing up.”

Chuck aimed his weapon at Quince’s head, “You have three seconds to kiss your carpet. We’re taking you in.”

“You’re not taking me anywhere,” Barnabas said.

“Don’t test me, asshat,” Chuck shouted.

“Rainhorse knows what I am talking about,” Barnabas said, “don’t you?”

Rainhorse nodded, reaching behind him. He pulled a Blackhawk CQD combat folding knife from his rear pocket. He tossed it to Barnabas. Barnabas caught the knife and unfolded it.

“What the hell are you doing, Rainhorse?” Chuck demanded to know. He took aim at Barnabas.

“Don’t shoot,” Rainhorse said to Chuck.

“Chuck, take my daughter into the next room,” he said. “She need not see this.”

“I love you, brother, but...” Chuck began.

“Just do it, Chuck,” Rainhorse said.

June Ann still appeared to be in a trancelike state, obviously in shock. Chuck helped her to her feet and led her out of the room.  Once she was out of sight, Rainhorse looked at Barnabas and nodded.

“Such a shame,” Barnabas said. “You and I made such a great team. We are so much alike.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Rainhorse said, aiming his pistol at the man’s forehead. “Get this over with Barnabas, or we’ll do it my way.”

“Why are you allowing me to do this?” he asked.

“Because for me, killing was always a job,” Rainhorse expressed. “I get no pleasure from it—not even when the mark is you.”

He looked Rainhorse in the eye, nodded and smiled, driving the steel blade deep into his own neck. Blood sprayed over eight feet to his right. The spray covered the vinyl record that had been playing, “Waiting on the End of the World.” The criminal mastermind choked and fell to his knees.  He gave Rainhorse one last glaring look, before falling to his side. The Cheyenne watched his former boss gasp and struggle to catch his breath. Within a minute, he was gone.

Chuck Johnson walked back from the bedroom to see Barnabas Quince, dead on the floor, blood pooling around his body.

“It’s over,” Rainhorse sighed.

“I’ll call Andrews,” Chuck said.

Rainhorse nodded, “The FBI are already on their way. I’ll check on June Ann.”

Chuck placed a hand on the big man’s shoulder, “Sorry brother, she doesn’t want to see you.”

“What?”

“She made me promise to keep you away from her,” Chuck continued. “Whatever trouble happened between you two—it’s a pain that runs deep. Trust me when I say this my friend, it would not be a good time to speak with her.”

The large Cheyenne sat on the sofa and lowered his face into his hands.

“She’ll always hate me,” Rainhorse sighed.

“She needs time, Rain,” Chuck said. “The good news is, thanks to you, you both have all the time in the world.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “but I doubt it. I disappeared from her life. It was inexcusable.”

“What’s next for you?” he asked.  “Are you going back with me?”

Rainhorse shook his head, “No. I’m done. I’m out.”

“Don’t do it, man,” Chuck urged. “You had an agreement. You saved a few million people here today.”

“I also broke away from FBI custody,” he said. “At best, I’ll be sent to prison while I wait for them to sort this all out. That could take months and I could still lose. At worse, I go back to prison.  I’m not doing it.”

“They’ll look for you if you run,” he said.

“They’ll never find me.”

“What about Neha?”

“Neha is coming with me,” he indicated. “In fact, I sent her ahead of me. She will never be away from me again.”

“Where?”

“It’s best you do not know.”

Chuck fell silent for a moment, in reflection.

“What about Lindsay?”

“She told me she never wanted to see me again,” he lamented.

“You think she meant it.”

“Yes. I have disappointed her more times than once.”

“Well, I have one more matter to discuss,” Chuck said. “In honor of the work here today, I am authorized by Hank Patterson to invite you into our organization. As of today, Hank considers you an official member of the Brotherhood Protectors.”

“I accept,” Rainhorse said. “I wish I could tell you I’d be an active member, but I will be out of pocket. However, I owe you big Chuck. So, if you need me you know how to reach me.”

Chuck nodded, “Ellie Limberhand?”

Rainhorse nodded, “Lindsay and you are the only ones who know about her. I need to keep Ellie’s identity a secret.”

“Ellie who?” Chuck asked.

Rainhorse smiled, “The FBI will be here soon. I must be off.”

“Good luck, old friend,” Chuck said.

Rainhorse nodded, “Tell June Ann for me...”

His voice tailed off.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled his wallet. He fished a picture out of it and handed it to Chuck.

“Give her this,” he said. “Tell her... I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused. Tell her I looked at this picture every day and thought about her. I’ll never forget her. I love her... always.”

Chuck took the picture and then embraced the big man in a bear hug, “I’ll make sure she gets the message. You take care of yourself, big fella.”

When Chuck released his hug, Rainhorse looked at him one last time and turned away. Chuck watched him walk out the door. He didn’t realize it at the time, but he would never see his Cheyenne friend again.