15. Monday January 22
Time: Noon
By Monday, chaos rules the drug underworld. Unencrypted messages are flying back and forth expressing total confusion and fear. The milk cartons have begun to appear in larger cities. The local police are both amused and embarrassed.
Politicians, who only days before were on the take, are obstreperously demanding investigations as their payments dwindle. Several drug lords flee the country for safer havens in South America. Jack is holed up in his apartment in St. Louis and desperately trying to reestablish connections with his former colleagues. Mike and Jay work diligently on the data producing a detailed revelation of the unseen underground world. The threat from Jack at last seems to be over.
Monday, a little after noon, Todd and David decide to drive to an electronics parts supplier to buy some gear. Todd's got some ideas for a new stealth computer controlled robotic camera and he and David are going to build a prototype. They head to downtown Omaha, preoccupied and arguing most of the way over how the system should be built.
"Java's for wimps, I don't want 20 different layers of interpretation. I want this thing to respond in real time, not snail time, Todd," says David as they drive across town.
"No, Sun's just bought this company that has a native Java virtual machine kernel, there are no more layers than in your Linux kludge. It's available now. Small memory footprint and full Java code functionality."
"Yeah, I've seen Java functionality. As soon as you get an application running, they change all the freaking libraries. I never could get any performance out of one of those applets. This isn't a browser, we're building. No, I want a Linux core and a real programming language, C, not some bastard version for people who can't program."
"C's old, man. Too error prone, no security, no neat network interfaces. Lots of buffer issues in the libraries. Most aren't even thread safe."
"Yeah, but it's efficient, isn't interpreted and it's got pointers. How the hell am I supposed to write controllers in Java?"
"Well, you can write the drivers in C and then link to them."
"Why not just write the whole damn thing in C? Anyway, a Linux kernel has a lot more functionality including really hot runtime thread facilities. And, a better scheduler."
They park the car in a lot behind the store, slam the doors and stomp up the alley still arguing. Inside, they quiet down as the troll through the aisles of electronic hardware picking out parts, sockets, chips, amps, gate arrays and other toys.
Once back outside, the argument resumes where they pretty much repeat themselves, as usual.
"I still think it should be Java based, it's the only way to go," repeats Todd.
"Yeah, what about Ruby on Rails, or whatever the next fad language is? No, Linux and C, that's the only realistic way. Anyway, Java's a pig on memory and they keep changing the library specs," replies David.
"C's obsolete."
"Bullshit, it's the only language that gives full control of the hardware. How the hell am I supposed to do that in some language without pointers?"
As they turn the corner and start back down the alley towards the parking lot, it's blocked by a large van. Four guys suddenly surround them, two from behind and another two who jump from the van. Three have guns drawn. David and Todd immediately recognize them as the four erstwhile killers they last saw at the garage.
They quickly tie Todd and David's hands behind their backs and shove them to the van where they push them into the second row of seats. One kidnapper gets in the driver's seat, one gets in next to David and the other two climb into the third row of seats. The van pulls out of the alley and heads for the interstate and the bridge over to Iowa.
Once in Council Bluffs, they make for an old secluded wooden farmhouse on the edge of town. They pull down a gravel driveway into the trashy back yard. On one side is an old car repair shop and on the other, the back of a drugstore. The far end of the yard ends in a corn field. Two old snow covered rusted cars are on the side. They drag David and Todd out of the van and up some worn unpainted wooden stairs and into a side door.
The house is about 80 years old. Once an imposing structure for this part of the country, it served as the residence for the family that owned the farm land around it. Now, it is just an old dilapidated eyesore, unpainted, and slowly falling down on the outskirts of town. The interior is mostly trashed as the present occupants are not fussy about appearances.
The side door leads into an old kitchen. The walls are faded wallpaper, peeling in places. An old gas stove and rust stained sink are along one wall, a refrigerator against another. Dirty dishes, pots, glasses, empty cardboard pizza boxes liter every surface in the room. An old table sits in the middle surrounded by four old wooden straight back chairs. The floor is scarred, stained yellow linoleum with burn marks from dropped cigarettes.
They prod David and Todd down the dark central hall towards the sitting room in the front of the house. The room is a collection of reject furniture covered in bedspreads over exposed springs and frayed upholstery.
One of the abductors, Nick, the one Lance took on, points to a beat up old sofa with his gun and says, "Sit down."
David and Todd sit. The old couch sags under their weight.
David says, "I guess we caught you on your maid's day off?"
Todd whispers under his voice, "Must be her year off."
"Shut your trap, Shea. We're doing the talking now," says one of them in reply.
Nick says to the others, with swagger, "Well, I guess we got'em back, ehh, guys?" while one of them, Dan, returns from the kitchen dangling a six-pack of beer from its plastic noose.
Bill, Roger, and Dan, join in agreement as Dan snaps the beers free from the plastic and passes them out. They flop onto a motley collection of old chairs and couches, prop their scuffed boots up on old tables, light cigarettes and complement themselves on their great good luck.
"I knew if we waited long enough we'd get a shot at them, man!" says Roger nervously, as he gulps beer from the can too fast. A rivulet trickles down his neck.
"So, what'a we do next?" asks Bill.
"We call that guy in St. Louis and tell him what we've got, that's what," says Nick.
"You know his number or how to get in touch with him? Joe used to talk about him but he never gave any details," says Bill.
"I got the number. It's his land line too so it will work, not like all the damn cell phones. I saw it written on a piece of paper on Joe's desk once. Thought it might be useful someday so I wrote it down," says Nick.
"I guess he'll be okay with this?" asks Roger.
"Okay? He'll be fucking delirious, man. We got the goods. These are the guys that fucked him. Oh yeah, he'll be okay with this," says Nick loudly. "I'll call him now, you'll see." Nick pulls out a slip of paper and picks up the phone. He carefully dials the number.
Jack's land line phone rings. He picks it up and looks at the caller-id display. He doesn't recognize the incoming number but the caller id says it's from northwest Iowa so he takes a chance.
After a few rings, Nick in Council Bluffs hears, "Yeah, what is it?"
"My name is Nick. I work, uhh, used to work for Joe. I got this number from him before things happened. There's four of us here. We all used to work for Joe. We've got something you might be interested in."
"Go on," says Jack, "I'm listening."
"We got a certain bar owner from Omaha and his chief bartender as our guests, so to speak. Thought you might be interested," says Nick.
"I don't want to talk on this line. Hang up and I'll call you back," says Jack cautiously but to himself thinking, Holy shit! Mother-fucking-load!
They hang up and Jack takes out a fresh pre-paid phone. He's had to buy several of these since the communications breakdown a few days earlier. For some reason, as soon as he begins using a new one, it stops working a few hours later. He dials the number in Council Bluffs that appeared on the caller ID. Nick answers and Jack says, "Okay, go ahead, I'm listening. What's your conn
ection to all this?"
"We were the guys Joe sent into the club a week and a half ago to take care of that Mike guy. We got ambushed by Shea and his people and left out on the interstate. I'm the one with the broken jaw. You probably saw me on TV. Half the fucking country saw us on TV in our underpants. You know the story."
"Yeah, I know the story. Buy some better underwear or stop getting dumped at rest stops with TV cameras."
"Well, when Joe's warehouse went bang, we figured this Shea guy might not be so careful, seeing as how he pretty much shut the business down around here, ya'know what I mean? We figured this might be our chance to even the score."
"How'd ya do it?"
"We just waited and watched around the club until we saw the two of them drive off today around noon. We followed them to a store downtown. When they came out, as they went down an alley to get to their car, we nabbed them. Simple, really."
"Well, this is interesting."
"So, what do you want us to do with them? We were thinking a swim in the river with a few weights attached."
"No, don't do that. I'd like to meet Mr. Shea and his friend, I'd be very interested to meet them. Do you know the old farmhouse in Iowa where we keep supplies and collect the goods?"
"Yeah, it's about sixty miles from here, just west of Fontenelle, out in the middle of fucking nowhere," replies Nick.
Good, Jack thinks, now he knows these guys are legit. Not many people know about that particular farm.
"Bring them there and wait for me. I'll be on the next plane to Des Moines then head out there. It's about sixty miles from Des Moines. I should be able to get there by about six or seven tonight. You got that?"
"Yeah, boss, we got that, no problem."
"Great, good work guys, very good work. At last something goes right up there. I'll call you back in a few minutes once I make some reservations," says Jack.
In Council Bluffs, Nick hangs up the phone and looks at his three roommates and says, "We're gonna deliver them to the farm near Fontenelle. Jack's gonna meet us there."
"How'd he sound?" asks Roger.
"Happy, real happy. We might have jobs again real soon. So let's pack up and load the van. He said he'd call back in a few minutes once he got some travel arrangements."
Jack quickly gets on a travel web site and finds a commuter flight to Des Moines. It's 2 o'clock and the next flight leaves at 3:30 pm, he can make it. He buys an e-ticket and prints out the boarding pass. He grabs his coat, wallet and his prepaid cell phone. He rushes out the door for Lambert Field.
The phone in Council Bluffs rings as Jack calls back, "This is Jack. Okay, I got tickets. I'll be there around 7 pm. I'll rent an SUV and drive over. Be sure you get some food and booze on your way out there," says Jack.
"Okay, 7 pm. We'll leave the light on for ya. Any preferences in the food department?"
"Can any of you guys cook?"
"Ahhh, no, not really."
"Okay, get some pizzas and burgers or something and make sure there's donuts and coffee for the morning."
"Okay, sounds good. See'ya at the farm," says Nick and hangs up.
Nick looks to David and Todd, points his gun in their direction, and says, "Okay, you two, time for a little road trip."
They pile back into the van that had once belonged to Joe. Roger opens both rear doors and David and Todd, arms behind them tied at the wrists, sit on the back deck then pull their legs up and squirm into the cargo area where they sit, backs against the rear row of seats, knees at their chins. Roger slams the doors and he and the others load into the front rows. They pull out of the driveway and onto Highway 92 east.
At the club, Lance becomes increasingly concerned that David and Todd haven't returned. He tries David's then Todd's cell phones. No answer, just a roll over to voice mail. Then he calls the electronics store and speaks with the manager, an old friend, "Hey George, this is Lance Anders."
"Hey Lance, how'ya doing? I just saw David and Todd. What's up?"
"Are they still there?"
"No, they left a while ago, about three quarters of an hour, I think."
"Did they say where they were going?"
"I think they said they were headed back to the club. Is something wrong?"
"I don't know. They're not here and I can't raise their cell phones. I'm getting a bit concerned, after the trouble we had here the other day."
"Yeah, I understand."
"Say, have you still got that security camera on your parking lot?"
"You mean the one you installed? Yep, works fine."
"Would you mind letting me look at the video for the last hour?"
"No problem. I'll copy the file to my server's anonymous FTP directory under the name seccam.mpg and then you can copy to your machine."
"Hey George, thanks."
"You bet."
"Catch you later."
They hang up. Lance waits a few minutes to give George time to copy the file then he does an anonymous FTP to George's server and starts the file transfer. The file is large and it takes several minutes to complete.
When the transfer finishes, Lance brings up a viewer and begins scanning the images. A date time stamp in the lower corner flickers by as he fast forwards through the data.
He sees David's SUV in the parking lot. Then he sees a large white van pull in. He slows the display. Four guys get out of the van. He recognizes them as the ones who were trying to get to the top floor to kill Mike. He watches them head for the alley that leads from the parking lot to the front of the store. They disappear into the alley.
He speeds up the display. After several minutes of elapsed time, he sees them re-emerge from the alley, this time with David and Todd whom they quickly hustle into the van and drive off.
Lance pages Mike, Tom, Bob, Mary, Jay and Sean and tells them to meet him in his apartment ASAP. When they arrive he quickly fills them in on what's happened.
Mike looks at Lance and says, "Holy crap."
"This is not good, guys," says Lance. He turns to Tom and Bob and asks, "Those guys we left out on the interstate, do you know them very well?"
"Yeah, we know them. You mean Nick, Roger, Bill and Dan? Nick is the one whose jaw you broke, ya should have broken his neck," says Tom.
"I'll agree with you there," says Lance. "You know where they live?"
"Yeah, some dump over on the far north side of Council Bluffs, a part of town called Kanesville," says Bob.
"Yeah, that's what all of Council Bluffs used to be called. They have an old beat up farmhouse there. It was once outside the city but the city kind'a crept up around it. We know how to get there, you want directions?" says Tom.
"Here, on this map of Council Bluffs, point where."
Tom gets up and walks to the screen and points. Lance blows that section up and says, "Okay, now where?"
Tom studies the map a bit and points again. Lance blows the map up one more time and Tom points again. Then Lance switches over to a satellite view and Tom says, "That's it," pointing at an old house with what appears to be a couple of abandoned cars in the back yard.
"Yep, that's it," says Bob. "A real pile of shit, like the guys that live there."
Lance records the GPS coordinates from the database and sends them to the GPS unit in his SUV and then says "What'ya know about them?"
"Thugs, foot soldiers. Real low lifes. They'll do anything they're told," says Tom.
"We didn't have much to do with them, they mainly worked in Joe's warehouse and drove his trucks, that sort of thing," add Bob.
"Dumb as dirt," adds Tom. "They are seriously brain dead."
"Yeah, you're definitely not dealing with rocket scientists here," says Bob.
Jay says, "Let me see if I can find anything going on in St. Louis." She opens a window on Lance's display and taps into the data stream that's still being captured from Jack's laptop. She says, "There's no current voice traffic but, wait a minute, I just scanned his web browser cache. He just logged on an airline
web site then a car rental site. Let me scan his cache further. Yep, there it is, he just bought a ticket to Des Moines and arranged for a rental car, a big SUV it looks like. His plane leaves at 3:30 and gets to Des Moines at 4:30."
"So, he's heading to Iowa to meet them I guess?" says Mike.
"Sure looks that way. Question is, where is he gonna meet them. Are they going to Des Moines or is he driving to Council Bluffs," says Mary.
"I guess we would have flown to Omaha if he were gonna see them in Council Bluffs. It must be in Des Moines or somewhere near there," says Jay.
"Yeah, but where?" says Tom.
"Could be a lot'a places," says Bob.
"Just to be safe, I'm gonna log into the rental company and make sure his car has that nice GPS based roadside emergency service. That way I can track him," says Jay as she brings up the rental company's web page and pastes Jack's confirmation number into the Modify Reservation box.
She quickly upgrades his car. "When he checks in, I'll get the vehicle ID and start tracking the onboard GPS system. Those systems really run through cell towers although they market them as satellite based."
"Well, I guess we'll be able to tell where they'll be meeting eventually," says Mary.
Jay interjects, "But maybe I get something quicker. Lance, you say you tried their cell phones?"
"Yeah. I got voice mail."
"Did they ring first and then roll over or did it say out of service then roll over?"
"They rang first."
"Sounds like the phones are still turned on. If they've got them with'em, maybe I can find out where. Do you know if they're usually set to ring or vibrate?"
"Vibrate. They can't hear them ring around here most of the time."
"Good. First, let me get into Todd's cell phone tower cracker."
"I thought all his stuff was super password protected?"
"It was. Not anymore, at least not for me," say Jay with a grin on her face. "I finally hacked my way into Todd's system." She quickly brings up several screens and the system begins scanning for the ID's of David and Todd's phones.
"Now, while I'm scanning for locator data, I'm gonna try sending them a message. First I send a script to their phones that will let me take control of the vibrator function. Done. Now I can send a pattern that will let them know we know. Any idea on what I should send? Some code like 1 pulse, 2 pulses, 3 pulses?"
"I know Todd knows Morse. Probably the last person on earth who does," says Lance.
"Morse it is and, no, he's not the last, second last. The last is me."
"Geez, finally a hidden talent that's good for something," says Mike.
"You be quiet. Okay, here goes, I'm sending 'Jay MSG – scanning cell towers – cellphone mics are on.' It will take a while to transmit since those vibrators aren't the fastest way of sending code."
"Anyway to know if they got that?"
"Not really unless one of them says something and I pick it up on the microphone."
"What if the bad guys got it?" says Mike.
"Yeah? Like they know Morse? It'll just seem like an incoming call. They won't know the difference."
"What if the ringer is on?"
"Same thing, just a funny ring tone. Unless they know Morse."
In the van Todd smiles and winks at David. He whispers, "I guess we owe Jay that $50K prize. She's hacked my system which means she's tracking us. Just got a message in Morse on my cell phone."
David whispers back, "Is that what that was? I thought the vibrator was broken."
Todd begins singing something unrecognizable, a lot of daa-daa-dit-dit's. David gives him a weird look but Jay hears it and decodes Todd's Morse reply as ACK.
"They got it," says Jay.
After a few more minutes Jay says, "Bingo. I found them. There they are. I got a hot signal from a tower near Griswold, Iowa. The GPS on Todd's phone says they're moving east, apparently on Highway 92. But that's not the way to Des Moines. Any ideas, guys?"
"Oh yeah," says Tom. "They're heading for Fontanelle."
"Yep, that's gotta be it," says Bob. "Definitely Fontanelle."
Mike chimes in, "Yeah, I think so, that's the only place that makes sense. It's about halfway to Des Moines and it's real secluded. Adair County, damned smiley face water tower in Adair City."
Lance asks, "What'ya know about it?"
"Plenty, we've been there lots'a times. That was a big collection point for the meth they used to cook in Iowa. Very remote, that county has a really small population but it's not too far from the interstate. Ideal place for distribution. They used to cook meth there too," says Tom.
"Yeah, back before it became tough to get the pseudophed," adds Bob. "We used to go around the state to chain stores and buy up all the pseudophed and bring it to Fontenelle. Ya'know, the farm's not really in Fontenelle, that's just the nearest town. The farm's out in the middle of nowhere."
"Yeah, we used to go there a lot to bring supplies. Not just pseudophed but a lot'a other chemicals too. Then we'd pick things up and deliver them to other places around the state. That's mostly what we did, ya'know, deliveries," says Tom.
"So, you been inside the place and all that?" says Lance.
"Oh sure, lots of times. Know most of the old county roads around there too. You can't be too careful. It's always a good idea to have a second or third escape route. We also know the small towns around it," says Tom.
Lance brings up the map. Tom and Bob point out where the farm is. Lance says, "Anyone actually live there?"
"Not in winter. They have some guy farm there in the summer to make it look legit. But this time of the year, like a lot'a farms out there, it's closed up. Even at the real farms, the families go to town for the winter. You ever been on an Iowa farm in the winter? I guess not. It's not very nice, I'll tell you," says Bob.
"But not much worse than Nebraska, I guess. Now tell me about the roads and the terrain," says Lance.
"Well, it's mainly flat, some rolling hills but, ya'know, flat. The roads out there are all gravel. Probably pretty drifted over right now. You'll need a good 4-wheel drive to get in there."
"I got one."
They proceed to discuss the roads and their probable condition. In winter, even after a big snow storm, some places are bare because of the way the winds blow. Tom and Bob know these patterns from three years of driving there.
Lance says, "Okay, Mike, let's see the satellite shot of the farm yard. Hmm, not very clear. I guess satellite imaging of corn fields isn't a high priority. So, tell me the layout of the place," as he enlarges the aerial image of the farm yard and surrounding buildings.
"Well, as you can just about make out, there's the main farmhouse, a big long barn, a few out buildings and some silos. There's a lot of supplies still stored in the barn. It was the distribution center for all the meth labs in western Iowa. The main house is a standard four-square farmhouse. There's a large wrap around porch. A dining room front left, big living room front right, center staircase, hall running from the front door past the stairs through to the kitchen in the back, pantry between the kitchen and the dining room. There's a back door in the kitchen," says Tom.
"Tell me about the pantry."
"It's about six feet wide and about eight feet deep, shelves on both sides, with a small window at one end and the door at the other," says Bob.
"Can the door be locked?"
"Yeah, it's a standard door. But they all have those old door handles with locks that take those big old fashioned iron keys. I don't think anyone knows where those keys are. I asked about them once."
"How about the upstairs?"
"Three bedrooms and a bath."
"Is there a bathroom downstairs?"
"Yeah, half bath, under the stairs off the hall just before the kitchen."
"Any dogs?"
"No, Jack hates dogs."
"Good, no barking. Okay, so where do you think they'll put their prisoners?"
"Don't know. Dining room, pantry, kitchen, who
knows? I don't think they'll worry much about them escaping. It's a long way to the next farm and it's way below zero out there this time of year."
"Yeah, that's true. And they probably won't expect anyone knocking on their door tonight, either," adds Lance.
"Right, the last thing they'll expect is company. That's probably why Jack picked it. Totally isolated."
"That's our ace in the hole."
"What are you gonna do?" asks Mary.
"The guys and I are gonna head over there and kidnap them back," says Lance.
"You got a plan?" asks Mike.
"Sorta. I'm working on it. We've got a big element of surprise and we'll seriously outnumber them. Basically, we break in and take them. Details to follow."
Turning to Tom and Bob, Lance says, "You guys do know there's gonna be a lot'a risk here. Maybe a lot'a shooting, who knows?"
"Fine with us. We've been shot at before. You can count on us. We're cool under fire," says Bob.
"And don't worry, Lance, we know how to handle ourselves. We were on the school rifle team a few years ago. We made all-state in marksmanship. Either of us can put a bullet in the eye of a crow at a hundred yards," says Tom confidently.
"That's a skill we might just be able to use. Okay, people, now go get your coats and dress for cold weather. We all meet me down at the loading dock in fifteen minutes."
"Will do," says Tom as he and Bob get up and hurry to their apartment.
Turning to Mike and Jay, he says, "You two stay here and work the communications. We'll keep in touch. Keep tracking them if you can."
"You got it," says Jay.
"I should go," says Mike.
"No, you stay here. You're the one with the goods on Jack. I'm not taking any risks with you."
Once in their apartment, Tom and Bob put on heavy jeans and a second layer of polyester sweat pants. They put on two layers of long sleeved jerseys and a double set of heavy socks. They've been out in the Iowa cold before. The get out heavy coats and thick gloves. Tom says, "Remember to pick up a couple'a pair of latex gloves from the bar before we leave, they'll help keep our hands dry."
"Right, I almost forgot," says Bob.
They take their scarves and two stocking caps each. Then they put on tall boots. Bob says, "So, are we ready to brave a frigid night of cloudless climes and starry skies?"
"I am indeed. And at last we may at last get a shot at Jack. Now let's get the hell out'a here."
They rush down the corridor and onto the elevator. On the ground floor, Tom darts behind the bar and grabs several pair of latex gloves. He hands a pair to Bob and stuffs the rest in his pocket for the others.
As the kidnappers pass through the small town of Massena, Iowa, not far from their destination, they park in a remote section of the parking lot of the local supermarket while Roger and Nick run in to load up on supplies, mainly junk food supplies, a bunch of frozen dinners, ice cream, donuts, boxes of frozen pizza, pop, cheese, crackers, mixer, steaks, and frozen French fries along with a lot of whiskey and beer. Supermarkets sell booze in Iowa. They push two shopping carts wobbling in the snow covered lot back to the truck and pile the stuff next to David in the cargo area.
Around 4 pm, just as it's getting dark, they arrive at the old farm and drive down the long gravel road to the farmhouse. The county road isn't in bad shape, a plow has made a pass at it and it's only drifted over in a few places.
The road to the farm is bare in spots but heavily drifted in others. Nick runs the van fast but skillfully through the drifts and manages to make it to the farm yard. One of the guys jumps out and pulls open the big doors to the huge barn, flips on a light and the van pulls in.
The farmstead consists of the old main farm building, a smaller house once used by a married son or daughter, the large barn and a few smaller buildings and several silos. It's rimed on the north and west by fir trees to cut down the wind in winter. The main building is the traditional four-square design. There is an old twelve foot C-band satellite dish with several panels missing along with its much smaller KU-band cousin, each looking to the south west sky. A small wind mill spins in the cold breeze of the dying day as wisps of snow swirl over the frozen landscape.
The barn in which they park the van is a long building, full of old farm equipment as well as three large propane tanks used to dry corn along with several tanks of anhydrous ammonia. There are several of barrels of industrial chemicals including toluene, acetone, aqueous sodium hydroxide, ether, and other tools of the drug trade. Two large tanks containing diesel oil and kerosene stand on metal stilts and several bales of straw line the walls.
Since the supply of pseudophed dried up, not much cooking goes on here anymore except when they manage to get a shipment of pseudoephedrine out of Mexico. Then they crank it up and start making crystal meth in bulk. This time of year, however, it's mainly shut down.
Nick says, "Okay, Roger, you go get the furnace started, I hope there's enough propane in the tank out back, I don't want to try hooking up one of those from the barn. Dan and I got the groceries. Bill, you run that pickup with the snow plow around and get the road passable for Jack."
Nick opens the back of the van and says to David and Todd, "You two stay put unless ya wanna try to make it ten miles to the next farm in this weather."
Nick and Dan unload the groceries in a few trips, leaving the frozen stuff on the porch where there is seriously no danger of it thawing. After a few trips they head back to the van and prod David and Todd to the house.
Once inside, Roger joins them from the cellar where he's been starting the furnace. They can hear it running but it will take hours before the house is up to a comfortable temperature. Roger says he checked and there's plenty of propane in the tank. In the meantime, he'll light a fire in the fireplace.
"What'll we do with these guys?" asks Dan.
"Put'em in the dining room, I guess," says Nick.
"Shouldn't we guard'em," asks Dan.
"Yeah, where they gonna go? It's -20F outside with a wind chill about -30F and the nearest house, probably unoccupied, is about ten miles from here. Yeah, like they're gonna run?" replies Nick.
"Yeah, I guess they aren't going anywhere," says Dan as he motions David and Todd towards the dining room and pulls a couple of straight backed chairs away from the old table.
David and Todd sit on the chairs next to one another. After Dan leaves, sliding the door closed behind him, David whispers, "I didn't see this coming."
"Would'a if you used Java like any normal person," Todd whispers back and they both break out laughing and lean back on the wobbly old chairs.
"So, what was in the message?"
"They're tracking our cell phone signals. I guess Jay finally hacked her way into my system."
In Omaha, Lance has three heavy duty SUVs parked at the loading dock. When Tom and Bob get to the dock they see five of the security guards, Chris, Sean, Jim, Gene and Phil. Some of them are loading arctic weather gear into the back of the SUVs while others are attaching cross country skis, poles and snow shoes to the roof. Another is packing flare guns and a box of flares. Sean brings a couple of cases of beer, two cartons of cigarettes, and a big box of nuts, chips and beef jerky. The others pause, nod approvingly and say, "Right on!"
Lance and Tony show up with three heavy cases.
"What's in those?" asks Chris.
"Take a look for yourself," says Lance as he puts one of the cases on the rear deck of one of the SUVs.
Chris opens the box and says, "AK47's?" Then he opens the other, "Grenade launchers?"
"Yep, six of each. And several extra clips, not that we'll need them all."
"Holy shit, Lance. You got enough ordnance to take out a small city. Where'd you get that?" says Chris.
"Oh, I collect stuff like this, it's a hobby," says Lance with a big grin.
"There is a very fine line between hobby and mental illness, ya'know?"
"Yeah, well then don't piss off the crazy person with the
guns."
Pulling out other equipment he says, "Here, Sean, Chris, Jim, take these night vision goggles. You'll be doing the driving and we may need to run without headlights for a while. There's a quarter moon tonight and the forecast is for clear skies so these should work fine. Here's a GMRS transceiver so we can communicate between cars." He hands them small cell phone like radios with stub antennae. "Use channel 625, duplex. Be sure to stay off 675."
Just then Sean shows up at the loading dock with a small case and says, "Are these what you're looking for?"
Lance opens one and says, "Yep, here they are," revealing twenty XM84 stun grenades neatly packed in foam rubber. He takes out four and puts them in the back of the SUV and says to Sean, "I don't think we'll need the rest of them, better put them back."
Tom and Bob have been watching all this and now walk up to Lance and Tom says, "Can we have the AK47's, please?"
"You do know how to use them?"
"Oh, yes, want a demo?" says Bob.
Without waiting for an answer, Tom pulls the top rifle, checks it, reaches in, grabs a clip from the box, slaps it on and neatly drops a crow circling a hundred feet overhead.
As bits of crow fall from the sky, Bob says, "That was sloppy. How many times have I told you? I don't like plucking lead out of my supper. Now give me that thing and I'll show you how it's done."
He takes the gun and downs a passing crow through the eye.
Lance says, "That's nice shooting."
"Well, I always say, if you can't dazzle them with brilliance, riddle'em with bullets," replies Bob.
"Okay, I'm convinced, you guys can shoot. Just stop firing. The Omaha police are a little jumpy these days."
"But, there'll be a third crow. They always hunt in groups of three," says Bob.
"Two's enough for now. You can get the third one later," says Lance.
Bob carefully puts the rifle back in the case and says. "The Avtomat Kalashnikova is one of our specialties."
"Ya'know, I really need to do some more checking on you two. I think there's a few things I may have missed. Now get in the car and stop shooting birds."
"Don't we get to play with the grenade launchers too?"
"In the car, you two, now!"
They ignore him and watch as Lance opens the other case which has ten small cylindrical plastic devices. "These are radio controlled detonators," he says.
Taking one out, he says, "You first twist the top ninety degrees to activate," as he points to the articulated head. "Then, when you push the button on this clicker," as he pulls out what looks like a car door remote opener, "The detonator blows. They're all set to the same frequency and so are these remotes. Click it and all the detonators will blow at once."
The clicker is gray with the logo of a flying hawk on the back. Lance has placed a red plastic tape on the back of it with the word detonator embossed in raised white letters so no one, in fact, will mistake it for a car door opener. He puts the clicker in his coat pocket.
"What'ya gonna do with those? They're way too small to do much damage," asks Tom.
"Put'em in gas tanks. They're big enough to blow a gas tank."
"Oh! Not bad," admires Bob.
"Or," says Tom, "A kerosene tank?"
"Definitely a kerosene tank! Tom," says Bob. "Maybe even a tank of, Oh, I dunno, propane, diesel fuel or anhydrous ammonia?"
"Maybe Bob, maybe!"
"One way to warm up a cold night! A little barn burning, I always say."
"Okay, you two comics, you're having way too much fun."
"Yes, we are. We're off to crystal city to blow fucking Jack's head off. When the time comes, Lance, baby, we're gonna do the deed. David and Todd will be free and Jack will be chillin in the cold Iowa winter moonlight. We are on a mission!"
"Right, I got your point. Now let's hurry with this, shall we?" says Lance.
Finally, Lance looks around and says, "Okay, I think we got everything. Let's see, nine of us going out and eleven returning. I guess we got enough seats, five per SUV?"
"Easy, even more if someone wants to ride in the back," comments Sean.
"Not so fast, boys," says Mary as she stomps out onto the loading dock bundled in a great puffy bright blue parka, red mittens, scarf, large knit multicolored jester styled stocking cap with two floppy peaks, each with a bell and high boots over green leggings. "Move over, I'm coming."
"Geeez. What are you made up as? An elf on steroids?" says Lance.
"Well, you'd know!" says Mary.
"Well, no elves and no women! This is a rescue mission, not a shopping trip to the North Pole," says Lance desperately, knowing full well he hasn't a chance.
She glares at him and says, "I had Lois and Jane confiscate your porn collection including those USB external hard drives with all the videos. If you ever want to see them again, shut up and drive."
The other guys on the loading dock quickly stand back.
"But you'll just be in the way!" he pleads.
"Sonny, you're gonna need a nurse, someone who can provide caring, gentle attention to people in pain. Like extracting my shoe from your fat butt. Now, are you gonna shut up and get in or am I gonna start kicking ass?"
Lance realizes that it's hopeless. He opens the door and Mary snatches his hand gun from his pocket and hops in.
Lance says, "Hey, what's with the gun?"
"Geez Lance, where I grew up we learned to shoot before riding a bike."
Lance shrugs his shoulders, grabs another gun and, turning to the others he says, "Okay, let's get all this gear stowed and on the road." He turns back to Mary and says, "If any of my videos are missing..."
"Don't worry, honey, Lois has copies of them all. Even a few of you, thanks to a few of Todd's little gadgets."
Lance groans and mutters under his breath as they scramble to finish packing. After a while, everything is ready. Lance tells Tom and Bob to ride with him so they can tell him more about the layout of the farm.
They get in and drive to a nearby gas station. Once loaded up on gas, the caravan of SUVs rushes over the bridge and into Iowa. Rolling east onto highway 92, Lance says into his GMRS radio, "Remember guys, stop lights timed for 35 are also timed for 70."
They bounce along the old two lane state highway over frost heaves and pot holes and around small drifts of snow that have blown onto the road surface. They pass endless farms and through tiny towns, Carson, Treynor, Griswold and Lyman where the highway makes a turn north then east again a few miles later.
Lance's cell phone rings. He looks at the caller ID, clicks TALK and says, "Hey Jay, What'ya got?"
"David and Todd's cell phones have stopped moving and they are indeed somewhere just north of Fontanelle, Iowa. Here's the GPS coordinates." She text messages the numbers.
"Great. Got'em."
"I'll let you know when I get a signal on Jack. Later," says Jay as she hangs up.
Lance uses the GMRS radio to tell the others that David and Todd are definitely at the farm in Fontanelle.
"Okay, so where do you guys think they'll have David and Todd?" says Lance.
Tom says, "There's only two places I think. The dining room and the living room. The only other place on the first floor is the kitchen and that's not very big and it has only a couple of chairs. My guess is that Jack and his guys will mainly be in the living room and they'll have David and Todd in the dining room."
"That would be my call too," says Bob.
"And when you enter from the front, which way is the dining room?"
"To the left," says Bob.
"And the living room is on the right. Straight ahead is the hallway and stairs on one side," says Tom.
"Okay, so when does this go down?"
"I'm guessing we get there between 6:30 and 7:00, right?"
"Looks that way right now."
After about an hour, Lance calls the other drivers, "Okay, according to the GPS, we're not very far from Fontenelle. Before we get there, we'll hit, on your left, just aft
er we pass through Massena, Highway 148. Turn right there. We've made good time so I think we can stop and get something to eat in Massena." He gets two squawked "Affirmative" replies from the other cars.
Time: 4:45 PM
A mile in the distance they see the outline of a water tower with a blinking red light on top and the dimly lit words Massena Iowa around the side. When they reach the water tower, Lance's caravan makes a right onto Main Street past an old 1930's gas station, now a small museum. The town is about five blocks long. There's a modern gas station, convenience store, a drug store, a bank building with a time and temperature display, and a few old, miscellaneous stores. Most of the buildings are from the 1920's, mainly three story brick with shops on the first floor and offices above. The street is wide and parking is diagonal. A few cars and pickups are clustered here and there.
They spot a restaurant that's open and decide to eat there. Synchronized, all three SUVs pull into adjacent slots on the street in front. Through the large glass windows, they see the diner is mainly empty except for a few guys drinking coffee at a table near the window and a waitress talking to an old guy at the lunch counter.
As Lance's squad enters, he calls to the waitress, "Mind if we push a few tables together?"
She looks up at the gal and nine guys and says, "No problem honey," quickly calculating the tip potential and grabbing up a handful of menus.
They push together a couple of tables then take off their outerwear and sit down. Lance sits in the middle, Mary sits next to him. He pulls out his laptop and powers up. He slips in a cell phone wireless card and makes a good connection to the nearby cell antenna array on the water tower. He brings up the satellite images of the farm and sets it further down the table so all can see while he pulls from the laptop case printouts of maps of the area including a terrain map with topographical features.
The waitress comes up and passes around the menus. Somewhat curious about such a large group of guys she doesn't know with maps, laptops and arctic gear all arriving at once asks, "Where'y'all from?"
Lance replies, "We're from All-American North, we've been out helping restore electric power after that storm. What a mess. Seems like every other pole is down in some towns."
"Ahh, that explains all this. Yeah, I guess there's still a lot'a places without electricity. Happens every year. I finally bought a generator a few years back. Best investment I ever made. It's not easy livin out in the country without heat once the wind begins to blow."
"Yep, it's hard to keep the lines up in wind like we had," says Tom.
"You bet," says Lance.
"How bout you honey? You don't look like the type that'd climb a utility pole?" she says looking at Mary.
"Shhhh, I'm not s'possed to be here," whispers Mary in an aside to the waitress. "I'm Lance's girl friend from Sac City." She leans against Lance and strokes his bicep. "Some stud, ain't he?" Lance groans. The others nearly split a gut.
"Sure is honey. Bet he's big in Sack City, ya'know what I mean."
Sean begins to wet his pants. Lance gives him the you're a dead man stare.
"So, what'll'ya have? Got a nice meat loaf special tonight? Corn, potatoes, green peas, gravy and pie."
"Sounds good to me," says Lance mentally calculating and regretting the cascade of carbs about to unavoidably happen, there being no obvious source of a protein shake.
The rest nod approval and she says, "Nine specials, comin right up. Be right back with your coffee, boys," as she bounces back to the kitchen, happy that she's finally unloaded yesterday's meatloaf. A minute later she brings out a tray of ketchup bottles, two coffee pots and three small pitchers of cream.
"Ya'all call if ya'need anything else." She returns to the kitchen.
"Okay, Sac City?" says Tom.
"Yeah, honey, Sac City is about 45 miles west of Fort Dodge. And Lance is not from Sac City. At least not my Sac City," says Mary.
"You are no longer on my friends list," says Lance to Mary.
She looks at him and says, "Hey, that was a complement. How many times do you get to say you're with a woman? I'm gonna go powder my nose. You boys behave yourselves."
Lance recovers and leans over and in a low voice only the guys at the table can hear, pointing to the map, begins, "When we get out on the road, I say we ditch her. Let the wolves put up with her!"
"I'm not taking her on. She's your problem," says Sean.
"Okay, I'll worry about it later. Back to the plan. I figure we can get to within about a quarter mile of the farm in the SUVs without being detected. There's a small hill here and we should have a commanding view of farmhouse. From there, we can get the rest of the way on snow shoes. The snow may be deep in places."
"Yeah, and real powdery too, not good to try to walk through," says Bob.
"Okay, then what?" says Sean.
"If everything checks out okay, then three of us will take the front door, three the back. We toss a couple of stun grenades and go in. Bob, Sean and Tony, you're on the back door, me Tom and Chris will be on the front. Jim, Gene and Phil will stay with the SUVs and charge the place when the grenades go off."
"You want us to enter the house when we get there with the SUVs?" asks Jim.
"No, it should be over by then. Have your guns ready but I don't think we'll need them. But turn the SUVs around so we can get outa there quick-like when we're done."
"You bet," says Gene.
Lance continues, pointing at the map, "Now, after we eat, we go wait, here on G27 with lights out, until Jack passes right about here. He'll be coming south from I80 on N54. It's real dark out there, so we'll see his headlights from a long way off."
"Once he passes us, we follow slowly, lights out. You drivers will need your night vision goggles. When Jack gets to the farm, we give them a few minutes to get inside then we quietly move up to about a quarter mile of the farm yard and, if all goes according to schedule. Then, Tom, Bob, Sean, Chris, Tony, and I will snow shoe up to the farm. I'll scout the place to see if we're right about where everybody is."
"Is there enough room in that yard to turn the SUVs around?" Jim asks Bob.
"You bet," says Bob. "It's plenty big enough."
"When we go in, I want lots of noise, a few shots into the ceiling, that sort'a thing. Listen guys, we totally have the element of surprise. They won't know what the hell hit'em."
Mary returns and sits down and asks, "Well? You figured it all out now?"
"Yeah, I figure we play dirty. We send you in. They won't survive," says Lance.
"Well, if you want a job done right, you need a woman. Now where'd I put my gun?"
The waitress comes over and starts serving. She walks around and puts plates, cups, saucers and silverware wrapped in napkins in front of each then says, "Since you're all having the same thing, I'll just serve family style and ya'all can dig in as you please."
With that, returns to the kitchen and brings out a big tray with a platter of sliced meatloaf, a great bowl of mashed potatoes, another of peas and carrots and a pitcher of gravy. In another trip she brings water glasses, rolls, butter and two coffee pots which she places at either end of the table. She asks, "Ya'din't want de-caff, did'ya?"
Lance says, "No, thanks, that's fine."
They all dig in and clean the plates. She brings the pie. Lance asks for one bill. She brings it and he hands her $150 and says, "Keep the change"
"Thanks, honey. Y'all have a safe night now, y'hear? Watch out for them electric wires."
Lance's cell phone rings. It's Jay again. "Hey Lance, Jack got to Des Moines and he picked up the rental. I got the cell ID on the car's emergency service and he's on his way. He's on I80 right now just coming up to Dexter, Iowa."
"Thanks, keep us posted. We're just finishing supper and we'll be back on the road in a few minutes."
"Yeah, I know, I'm tracking you too."
"Okay, later," says Lance as he turns and tell the others.
At about 6 o'clock, they get up, put on their heavy
coats and head for the door. Once outside, Sean belches and Lance says, "Geez? What'ya trying to do? Wake up half the county?"
They pile back into the SUVs and in the still darkness, quietly drive north to their target. Once there, they find a small grove of trees on a slight rise where they can pull over and park. They wait facing east watching for Jack's SUV to pass by on its route south from I80. To their southeast, they can make out the dim light from a sodium vapor lamp in the yard of the farmstead about five miles distant.
At about 6:30 Jay calls, "Hey Lance, Jack's about five miles north of your position and closing."
"Thanks," says Lance closing the phone.
"Okay, he's in range, Jay's got him about five miles north of here," says Lance to the others.
A few minutes later, in the distance, they see the headlights of Jack's SUV flickering as it bounces over the uneven, frost heaved road surface. Lance signals the other SUVs.
Jack's SUV passes a few hundred yards away from them. A few moments later, Lance's vehicles power up and, lights out, begin following Jack's tail lights as they bob up and down the old uneven road ahead of them.
Jack's car approaches the old unused silo at the end of the farm driveway. A tree grows through the center of it. Jack turns left and drives east on the freshly plowed road. When he reaches the farmyard, he pulls his SUV into the barn where a single naked light bulb hanging from a high rafter gives a dim view of the interior. Jack gets out and walks briskly to the farmhouse.
Lance signals the others that it's time to move. The SUVs creep up the driveway towards the farmhouse and stop about a quarter of a mile away as planned. Lance and the others have pulled on their thin insulating coveralls.
Inside the house Jack asks, "Where are they?"
Nick replies, "In the dining room."
Jack says, "Get me a whiskey and soda," as he tosses his coat on a chair in the hall and walks towards the dining room door.
Nick follows Jack into the dining room. He sees David and Todd sitting on chairs around the old table with a worn, aged lace table cloth.
Jack looks David and Todd over. "So, at last. Which of you is Shea?"
"That would be me and you would be?" says David.
"I'm you're fucking worst nightmare. You really screwed my organization royally, you prick. But now the tables have turned and I've got you and Mike's next."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that, if I were you. Mike's got enough on you to put your fat little neck in a very tight noose."
"We'll see whose neck ends up in a noose," says Jack as Roger brings Jack his whiskey.
"So, these are the guys all the trouble's been about," says Jack. "You sure it's okay leaving them here in the dining room? Won't they escape or something?"
"Sure, let'em climb out the window. They wouldn't even make it to the county road in this weather," replies Nick.
"Yeah, I guess you're right, the dining room's okay. It is a bit cold for a walk," Jack laughs as he turns and leaves. Back in the entry hall, he says, "What have you got to eat? I didn't get anything on the plane."
"We just pulled some pizza out of the oven," says Nick.
"Good. Get me some and fill this up again. Where's the heat?" says Jack as he hands Nick his empty glass.
"It's on but it'll take a while. The house was shut down when we got here. But we started a fire in the fireplace and it's beginning to warm up the living room a bit," says Nick.
While Jack walks into the living room and heads for the chair nearest the fire, Nick walks down the central hall past the stair case into the kitchen. He pushes a few slices of pizza onto a plate and grabs a beer which he tucks into his pocket. He gets Jack's refill and takes the plate of pizza and delivers it. Jack is asking the guys from Council Bluffs the details about how they grabbed David and Todd. He has his supper of pizza washed down with rye.
One of them asks, "So, Jack, what'll you do with them?"
Jack says, "I'll hold them ransom and trade them for Mike. Either I get Mike or those guys back in Omaha get two of their own back dead. I think they'll see reason. In the meantime, I wanna find out what these guys know and how they did what they did. That information could be useful."
Jay calls again. "Hey Lance, I got audio from Todd's cell phone of someone saying that David and Todd were in the dining room."
"Can you communicate with them?"
"Yeah, I don't hear anyone talking right now. I'll give it a try. Hang on and I'll text them a quick burst of Morse and ask where they are. I'll patch their audio through to you."
There's a pause then Lance hears what sounds like static but is really Jay's Morse signals. Then he hears a whisper from Todd, "We're in the dining room."
"Bingo," says Lance, we know where they are. "Hey Jay, tell them when we come in we'll be using stun grenades so they need to shut their eyes and cover their ears if they're untied. And tell them we'll let them know when we're coming."
"Will do, sending now."
Todd whispers to David, "They can hear us. Lance is here and he'll use stun grenades so shut your eyes when you hear the show start." David nods.
At 7:10 Lance, Tom, Bob, Chris, Sean and Tony hop out of the SUVs that are now about a thousand feet from the farmhouse. They quietly remove the snow shoes and ski poles from the roof racks above. They strap on the snow shoes. Lance fills his pockets with two stun grenades and about eight of the radio controlled detonators. He gives the other two grenades to Bob. They all carry assault rifles and cell phones set to conference mode with attached Bluetooth headsets on their ears.
Stealthily, they begin their trek across the snow covered barren waste of winter towards the farmhouse. A couple of curious coyotes watch silently in the distance. The wind is now still. The clear, frigid, faintly moonlit night is silent except for the crunch of cold snow under twelve snow shoes. Lance and his squad advance on the house. High above, in the starry night, are the red and green flickering lights of a few passing aircraft leaving wispy ghostlike contrails lit by the moon.
At 7:20 Lance, Tom and Chris are near the front door, while Bob, Sean and Tony are closing in on the back door. They ditch their snow shoes and ski poles and fade into the dark shadows of the house.
Lance silently jogs across the dimly lit farm yard through the half open barn door. Inside, he quickly arms and drops his small radio controlled detonators into the gas tanks of the cars and trucks as well as the kerosene and diesel tanks for good measure. He sets a few others on the barrels of solvents. Catlike, he retraces his steps back to his men near the front door.
They all carefully move into their final positions. Bob and his guys make their way to the back porch and crouch below the back door window from which a shaft of light from the kitchen pierces the darkness. Lance and his guys carefully tip-toe to the front porch.
Lance leans over and peeks through the aged lace curtains into the living room. He sees Jack and the guys from Council Bluffs huddled near the fireplace. Through the dining room window, he sees David and Todd. Go time.
Lance, wearing his Bluetooth headset, whispers a message to Jay saying that they're ready and to tell Todd. She acknowledges. Todd's phone begins vibrating and Todd whispers to David, "Here they come." David nods.
Lance whispers into his mic to the guys at the back door and says, "Now!"
Both he and Bob take out two stun grenades, pull the pins, count down then hurl them. Bob sends his through the rear window of the living room just as Lance's crash through the front window. Lance's land on the floor a few feet from Jack. Jack and the others, startled, turn quickly towards the shattered window. They briefly see the grenades at their feet. David and Todd shut their eyes and cringe. Lance ducks back away from the window and turns towards the front door which Tom is poised to kick open.
A fraction of a second later the grenades detonate in massive flashes of blinding light and deafening concussions. Jack and the CB4 who were looking directly at them are instantly rendered blind and deaf.
Tom thru
sts open the door as Bob does the same from the rear. They charge through the doors and into the living room from both ends taking up positions all around the stunned occupants. Lance lets lose a few shots into the ceiling, Tom and Bob do the same.
As Jack's vision slowly returns, he sees he's surrounded by eight guys with large guns all trained on him and his minions. Jack drops his drink and makes a fleeting instinctive lurch for his gun. Lance brings his assault rifle to a full aiming position and, pointing it dead at Jack's skull, says, "Go ahead, dirt bag, I ain't half unloaded this clip yet."
Jack freezes then quickly raises his hands in submission. The others also raise their hands except Nick who charges Lance. Lance gives him a gut punch that sends him across the room where he lands in a heap. Lance's detonator clicker, however, falls to the floor near Jack's foot. Jack sees it and quickly kicks it under his chair.
Tom and Bob dash across the corridor and into the dining room where they cut David and Todd's hands free. Outside, the sound of the SUVs rapidly pulling into the yard can be heard.
A door slams and a moment later Mary stomps through the front door and into the living room. She looks around and quickly focuses on Jack. "So, you're the shithead who's caused all this, you son-of-a-bitch! You've maimed and poisoned a lot'a kids. You're filth. Thank God for people like Mike McAneas who'll expose you and all your kind. I've treated enough of your victims, you fucking piece of scum. I only hope I'll see the day when you get what you deserve. Okay David. I just wanted to look on the face of the Devil for once. I wanted to see what evil really looked like. He's not much really. Pasty, flabby, not very appealing with a wet crotch where he's peed in his pants. I guess the Devil hasn't got much bladder control."
David walks up next to her and puts his arm around her, tears now pouring down her cheeks.
She continues, "Ya'know, one kid I took care of, he died in my arms from an OD. If for no other reason than that poor soul, you will burn in Hell. Now David, get me the fuck out of this place." She turns and walks majestically out.
David, pulls on his coat, and says, "Hey Jack, I guess we'll be taking off now. She's right, ya'know. Catch'ya next time, when they give you the lethal injection. We both want to be there." He turns to Lance and says, "He's definitely a dirt bag. Okay, let's go guys."
David and Todd jog out to where Lance's SUVs have rushed the yard and are now turned facing back. The large black cars sit there, engines idling, their exhaust plumes forming orange clouds in the light of the sodium vapor lamp. Mary points David to one and Todd towards another. One of the SUVs sounds its horn several times, a signal that they're ready. Lance and his men begin to retreat towards the door. Jack and the CB4 are disarmed.
While the others jog to the waiting SUVs, Lance, Tom and Bob remain in the house. Outside, Sean hurls the confiscated guns irretrievably far into the drifted fields of snow beyond. They won't be found until April. This startles three watching coyotes who scatter in the darkness. Two of the SUVs shift into gear and drive off.
Tom and Bob, then Lance, back out.
"You'll do better if you sit tight guys. I don't recommend a walk outdoors this time of year," says Lance as he walks out of the farmhouse. Outside the door, they leap into the remaining SUV where David and Mary are waiting and Sean has taken over as driver. He guns the motor and all four wheels spin in the packed snow. He races to join the others.
As the last SUV roars off, Jack and the CB4 leap to their feet and rush out into the farm yard. They hesitate a moment and watch the departing SUVs. Then Nick says, "There's more guns in our van." He turns and points towards the barn.
Lance reaches for his detonator clicker but realizes it's not there. He tries his other pockets. "Damn," he says, "Anyone see the detonator clicker? Is it in the car?" He pulls out his LED flashlight and they look quickly around the floor and seats to no avail. "Oh, crap,” he says, “Now they'll be able to use their cars."
"I don't think they can catch us," says Sean. "Anyway, we out gun and out number them."
"Well, I just didn't want any Keystone car chases through Messina, that's all," says Lance. "Don't worry about it."
While Jack stands waiting in the farm yard, he pulls out Lance's clicker. Seeing the label, he's curious why there's an image of what looks like a crow on it. He clicks it to see what happens, believing it controls some bomb still in the SUVs that Lance brought but didn't deploy.
At Jack's command, Lance's detonators explode in multiple gasoline, diesel and kerosene tanks where, in fact, they were deployed. The resulting blasts sends burning gasoline, kerosene and diesel fuel throughout the barn and out onto the farm yard where it soaks two of the CB4 just as they reach the door. The barrels of acetone and toluene rupture as they burst into brilliant flame. In seconds, the old, dry bales of hay catch fire. The ancient arid wood beams above, drenched in the burning fluids, likewise quickly ignite.
"Lance, I think we've found your clicker," says a startled Sean looking through the rear view mirror. "You wanna go back and get it?"
"Nah. Never mind. Keep driving. I think they figured out how to use it. I'll get another one," laughs Lance as his and all other heads quickly look to the rear.
Jack freezes and looks at the barn he's just detonated. The two guys who were approaching the barn door when the blasts began are now writhing on the snow covered ground trying to put out their flaming clothes. Jack watches the barn burn and says plaintively, "Are there no other cars around here?"
"Nope, they were all in the barn to avoid attracting the interest of the state police planes that used to make fly overs looking for meth labs."
"We're fucked," says Jack, accurately assessing the situation.
Just then something in the corner of his eye distracts him. He turns and sees, through the window, the living room of the old house in flames. One of the old upholstered chairs tipped into the fireplace as they ran out after Lance. "Oh shit," he exclaims. "The barn's gone and now it looks like that farmhouse is too."
He and the bewildered, shivering CB4 watch both fires and occasionally look back down the gravel road at the dim receding shadows of Lance's darkened caravan. Then, two of the guys from Council Bluffs decide on a last desperate effort to try retrieving their coats from the burning farmhouse. The flames, however, have rapidly spread through the living room where they began and into the kitchen and beyond.
Just as they enter, the entire house explodes. It seems there was a large metal container of highly unstable triacetone peroxide, a white crystalline powder, used by cookers during drug raids to destroy evidence. It was, unfortunately, carelessly stored in the pantry.
Two of the CB 4 have no further need for coats. The remaining two and Jack are buffeted by the shock wave and lacerated by the flying debris.
In the distance, Lance's SUVs rumble on. They bounce west over the uneven but frozen gravel surface. No plume of stone dust this time. All heads but those of the drivers are turned east watching the flames soar behind them. Finally, when they get to the county road, the SUVs turn left but quickly roll to a stop at the road side and shut their motors down. Lance, David, Todd, Mary and the rest get out to survey the growing fire storm in the distance. The barn and farmhouse are completely engulfed and the flames shoot high into the still night sky. Glowing embers descend slowly back to earth.
Mary looks with satisfaction upon the fiery scene beyond. Casually she plucks a cigarette from David's pocket, lights it, takes a deep drag and pronounces in a long loud smoky sing-song voice, "O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate! What goddess was provoked, and thence her hate?"
"Now, isn't this much better than watching a satellite TV shopping channel, honey?" asks David.
"In your dreams, dearie."
"Wow, sure lights up the night," says Sean. "Is that what a burning barn really looks like? It seems like a pretty big fire."
"They had a lot of chemicals in that barn not to mention the hay and the dry timber. In the winter, it's dryer here than in the desert. I wond
er what Jack and the boys are doing now? No cars, no shelter. Certainly not calling the police," says Lance as he grabs an image stabilized camcorder with telephoto lens from the rear of one of the SUVs. "I need to get some footage of this," and begins recording. The flames continue to build.
"Yep, that's one hell of a marshmallow roast. The old boy must be pretty pissed, I expect," says Bob.
"Not exactly the outcome he expected," adds David.
"They shouldn't have played with my toys," says Lance. "Let that be a lesson to you guys, stay away from my toys."
"Lance, none of us have ever wanted to play with your toys," says Todd. Lance gives him a sour look.
Then, suddenly, a vast, brilliant and engulfing explosion thunders across the empty landscape. A second equally large concussion follows a fraction of a second later then several more. A three hundred yard wide yellow and blue fireball mushrooms up into the dark and cloudless prairie sky. The shock waves follow a few seconds later. The flaming ball can be seen for a hundred miles in all directions. The surrounding countryside is lit. The farmhouse, the buildings and the figures standing dumbfounded in the farm yard are all incinerated in the flash.
"What the hell was that?" says Tom, covering his eyes. They all stand bathed in the brilliant light and feel heat from the rising inferno a few miles east.
"Duh? I should have known. My guess, it was the anhydrous ammonia tanks they had in the barn," says David.
"But ammonia doesn't burn, does it?" asks Todd.
"No, not normally. But if you heat it above 450F, it decomposes into hydrogen and nitrogen."
"That barn and its gasoline, kerosene and barrels of chemicals got a lot hotter than that," says Bob.
"Right. Once the ammonia breaks down, the pressure in the tank quadruples. Then, bang, no more tank. When the tank ruptures, now you've got one humongous cloud of explosive hydrogen. Ka-boom." says David.
"Seemed like more bangs than ammonia tanks," says Tom.
"My guess is that the exploding ammonia tanks caused the propane tanks to burst. That would add a few hundred thousand cubic feet of explosive propane to the mix. And that makes for one hell of a fireball! I hope Jack wasn't standing too close," says David.
"How do you know all that?" asks Lance.
"Well, I was pre-med, ya'know. I did learn some chemistry," comments David as he tosses and steps on his cigarette in the snow.
"Geeez, now he remembers his chemistry," says Mary, her arm around his. "How come you couldn't tell the difference between a liter and a quart back in St. Louis?"
Todd turns to David and says, "I guess there's one less meth lab in Iowa tonight?"
David chuckles and says, "You know Todd, I think you're right! A few less drug dealers too."
"Well boys, Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell, And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell," recites Mary in a singsong voice exhaling a cloud of smoke as she does.
They laugh and lean against the SUVs and bathe in the glow of the burning distant scene. One of the guys opens the rear hatch on an SUV, opens a cooler, and passes around some beers. The embers in the distance still rise far into the night sky.
All at once they hear and feel the tapping of small pellets landing on them and clattering on the hoods of the SUVs. Lance holds his hand open and catches one. He shines a tiny LED flashlight on it. It's a small red pill.
He looks up and says with a smile, "Hey guys, what'ya know, it's pseudophed!"
"A suitable denouement, under the circumstances," says Todd.
"The new what?" asks Lance.
Todd shakes his head, laughs and says, "I give up."
Over half of Adair county it's raining decongestants. The trove of so many drug store visits by Tom and Bob, the prime building block of meth, is now just tiny red polka dots on the snowy white landscape. Jack, who paid for those pills, and his minions are now charred barbecue. What remains of them that the coyotes don't drag off lie in wait to surprise the morning crows who will be happy for fresh road kill, nicely cooked for a change.
Finally, David says, "And in the later watch of wasting night, the setting stars to kindly rest invite."
"Until the rising morn with rosy light, adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight. When next the Sun his rising light displays, And gilds the world below with purple rays," adds Mary
"Now, when that rosy morn begins to rise, And waves her saffron streamers thro' the skies," Todd starts to say.
"Okay, let's cut the crap, people. This ain't no poetry contest. It's time to go back to Omaha. That fireball has, no doubt, attracted some unwanted notice. I'd rather not be here if anyone comes by asking questions," interrupts Lance.
"Hey? We were just getting started!" says Todd.
"Yeah, and now we're finished. We gotta go," says Lance.
"I'll bet that blast could be seen from Omaha to Des Moines," says Tom.
"Right, and there's a special later tonight on cubic zirconium," says Mary.
"I wonder how they came up with the name Fontanelle. Seem strange to name a town after the soft spot on an infant's skull?"
"I wondered about that too," says Mary.
"No, man, the place is named after Logan Fontenelle, last high chief of the Omaha," interjects Tom.
"Also known as Shon-ga-ska, Chief White Horse," Bob adds quickly.
"How'd you know that?" asks Todd.
"When we get bored, which is most of the time, we hang out at the library a lot," says Bob.
"Well I'll be damned," says Mary. "I live and learn. You two missed your calling."
"Yeah, we know that," says Bob.
As they speak, aircraft seven and more miles above and for nearly a hundred miles in all directions are alerting FAA en route Area Traffic Control Centers in Chicago, Minneapolis, Kansas City and Denver to report a massive fireball somewhere west of DSM and east of OMA. National Guard helicopters from Des Moines are dispatched. They report back that it's a fire at a farm, probable propane tank explosion and the local sheriff's office is alerted.
The sheriff's office for Adair County in Greenfield has already been alerted. They, like the rest of the county, heard the concussion and saw the fireball on the horizon. From reports he receive by phone, he quickly triangulates its location and concurs, it was probably a propane tank. Since they know the remote farm is unoccupied during the winter, the understaffed sheriff's office defers investigation until daylight.
The caravan of SUVs turns onto Highway 92 and drives west back to Omaha. David grabs a bottle of scotch from Lance's all purpose rescue kit and clicks the MP3 player in his SUV which repeats over and over again, all the way to Omaha, the simultaneously triumphal and melancholy ending of the Schubert Quintet in C. The other occupants mentally debate the option of getting out and walking or riding on the hood, dead deer style.
Lance gives Mike and Jay a blow by blow description of what happened. Mike paraphrases to Jay, "The forecasters were right. The pseudophed, indeed, was general all over Iowa. It fell upon all the living and the dead." Jay gives him a quizzical look. He winks at her in his best imitation of Joyce.
Time: 10 PM
The caravan makes it back into Omaha by ten pm. They all head for David's apartment for a victory celebration. David takes Todd aside and tells him to put a spot on the balcony and open the sound system. David walks out on the balcony, several spots simultaneously converge on him, the band stops playing and he begins, "Listen folks, we've just had some real good news and we're sharing it with you. We have reason to believe that the guy responsible for the attack here and the bombing over near the rail yards won't be doing that any more. He's met his end, we hear. So, for the rest of the night, drinks are on the house."
An instant later, the guys back in the apartment hear the roar of approval of the crowd to the new price list, or lack thereof. The band begins to play a brief, discordant, Jimmi Hendrix-like version of For he's a jolly good fellow.
And from the rafters high, Todd's fugitive wing'ed army
can be heard in chorus to sing along. David looks up, and decides to add sunflower seeds to the freebies at the bar. David waves in appreciation to the crowd below and smiles at the airy nation above.
Lance gives Jay the digital camcorder and says, "How about an anonymous upload of the video I shot to the cable news networks, the usual? Yeah, and with a narrative that this was a meth lab belonging to Jack Meyers, the drug lord, uhhh, former drug lord, from St. Louis who was incinerated in the explosion. And, put something in that links him to the explosion in Omaha, and the death in the Regency Hotel."
"You got it," says Jay as she begins to happily stream the video into the computer system. "By the way, do you want the Iowa and Nebraska cell phones turned back on?"
"I was thinking, maybe we should turn them all back on. That way, we can continue to monitor them. If we keep'em off, they'll just start up a new network," says Lance. "And it won't be easy to break into it again."
Jay starts the video on the big screen and they watch it several times. David says, "Not bad, for night photography?"
"Well, I guess Mike and Jay can finish putting together their opus magnus with no more interruptions," says Todd.
"Of course, you kind'a torched my main character," says Mike. "But not to worry, I have the goods on a lot of Jack's friends. They're probably contemplating their early retirement options about now. If not, I'll see if I can't arrange some state sponsored assisted living arrangements."