Chapter 20
Stan looked on in horror as the fishing boat headed straight at them. They began rowing furiously but the ship hit them in the stern and Stan heard a loud thud as Paul’s head hit the hull of the ship. The raft flipped over and Stan was thrown into the ocean. Stan had on his life vest, so he didn’t sink very far before he came bobbing out of the cold water. Much to his distress, however, the raft had drifted fifty yards away and was being quickly washed toward the shore. He looked frantically for Paul but couldn’t see him in the darkness. Finally, he gave up and focused on his own survival.
Stan knew he’d never be able to catch up with the raft in his life vest. It would cut his speed in half. In his youth as a Boy Scout, he had to swim a mile in order to earn a merit badge. He wondered now, ten years later, if he could still do it. The raft was drifting farther away, so he finally ditched the life vest and shoes and began swimming as fast as he could toward it.
When he was about halfway to the raft, he felt his energy faltering and wondered if he was going to make it. He stopped a second, flipped over on his back, and floated awhile until he caught his breath. Seeing the raft continuing to drift, he started swimming again until he finally grabbed the side of it and pulled himself aboard. He was relieved to be out of the water but soon began to shiver as the wind blew through his wet clothes.
He searched again for Paul, but couldn’t find him. He figured his life jacket would keep his head afloat even if he were unconscious, but he could only see twenty-five feet or so ahead, so searching for him would have been a futile effort.
As his mind cleared from the trauma of the collision, he looked toward the shore at the Rosarita Beach Hotel, which looked much closer now. He realized if he began rowing, it would probably warm him up, so he got in the proper position, fumbled with the oars, and began rowing once more. Soon, he sensed he was near the rendezvous spot and began calling, “Brad! Where are you? . . . Brad, do you hear me? . . . Brad!”
A wave caught the raft and pushed it toward the shore. Stan looked around but could see very little in the darkness. Then he heard a splash behind him.
“Over here!” a voice yelled.
Stan pulled out a flashlight, but when he turned it on, nothing happened. “Brad! Where are you?”
“Over here!” Brad said.
Stan began to row the raft in the direction of the voice. There was another splash, and Stan saw a hand waving at him.
“Okay. I’m coming. Hang on.”
Stan rowed over to where Brad was treading water and stretched out his hand. Brad grabbed the side of the raft and pulled himself up next to it.
“Thank God. Where have you been?” Brad gasped. “Are you alone? I thought you had a team.”
“I did, but we got run over by a fishing boat coming into to get you. You’re lucky I was able to catch the raft before it got away.”
“Yeah. I was about to swim back to the shore.”
“Sorry,” Stan replied. “We need to look for Paul on the way back. He was wearing a lift jacket so hopefully he hasn’t drowned.”
“Sure.”
Stan helped Brad aboard and they began rowing back in the general direction of the plane.
“I can’t believe you came down here to rescue me. This is crazy.”
“I know. Your wife is very persuasive.”
“So, the feds are waiting for me when I get back?” Brad asked.
“I’m afraid so, but there may be a way out for you,” Stan said.
“How’s that?”
“The feds want Carlos Morales and the Burilo cartel. If you help them bring them down, they may cut you a pretty nice deal.”
“Yeah? That’s what Paula said. Is she FBI?”
“No. She’s a friend of mine from SMU. She’s been helping me clear Rob’s name.”
“How’s that going?”
“Mission accomplished. The Medical Examiner has changed his findings and cleared Rob’s name.”
“Good. Rob was a good kid. He didn’t know anything about what was going on.”
Stan looked into the darkness, checking for any sign of Paul.
“I can’t see behind me, so keep a lookout for a blinking light. That will be our ride.”
“Okay,” Brad said, looking off into the darkness.
Stan rowed for a long time and began to tire when Brad finally said. “There it is!”
Stan turned and saw the dim blinking light in the distance. “Thank God!” he said, altering his course slightly in order to reach the plane. Rowing frantically, they finally reached the plane, and Brad tied a line to the pontoon. As they were climbing aboard, the door to the cockpit opened, and Phil stuck out his head.
“You made it. Where’s Paul.”
Stan explained what had happened.
“Shit! Get aboard. I’ll get us airborne and we can search for him.”
When Brad was safely aboard, Stan set the raft adrift and climbed into the cockpit. “Okay, we’re set.”
Phil nodded and started the engine. Turning the plane to face the wind, he pushed the throttle forward, and the plane started to pick up speed until it was airborne. Phil circled around and came in low so they could see the surface of the water.
They searched for a half hour without seeing anything but choppy water.
“Damn it. I’m getting low on fuel. We can’t search much longer.”
Stan’s stomach twisted another notch as a wave of guilt washed over him. He didn’t know if he could live with himself if Paul died because he hadn’t been able to find him. He wondered if he should have just forgotten about Brad and kept searching for Paul.
“I’ll call search and rescue,” Phil finally said. “If we don’t head back now they’ll be searching for all of us.”
“Oh, Jesus!” Stan said. “The fishing boat came out of nowhere.”
“Maybe they felt the collision and stopped to see what they hit,” Brad conjectured.
“That’s a possibility Phil said. They may have rescued him. He might be aboard the fishing boat.”
Stan felt a little better, but not much. “I hope Paula and Professor Hertel are okay.”
“They seemed to know what they were doing,” Brad said. “Boy, does that girl know how to kiss.”
In the distance, Stan could see the lights of Tijuana. He couldn’t wait to be back in the United States. Finally, the Cessna banked to the right, and he knew they’d soon be back to Lake Cuyamaca. When they reached the lake, a string of lights illuminated the Cessna’s landing lane. Ruben brought the plane in and set it down in the water with hardly a ripple.
As the plane taxied over to the dock, Stan saw Agent Rutledge and a tall, dark-haired man in a suit waiting for them. Stan gave them a thumbs up. When the plane stopped, Stan stepped out of the plane first and looked back as Brad Thornton carefully stepped out. The dark-haired man rushed up to Thornton and flashed a badge.
“Robert Thornton, I’m Special Agent Vincent Ross of the FBI. You are under arrest.” Ross put one hand on Thornton’s shoulder and adroitly spun him around and cuffed him.
Stan frowned. “Is that necessary?” he complained.
Before Agent Ross could respond, there was a flash of light, the sound of a gunshot, followed by a dull thud. Stan looked out into the darkness in the direction of the flash of light and then back at Thornton. Blood began to spread in a rough, dark circle over Thornton’s left breast. Agent Rutledge slammed into Stan, knocking him to the ground, and Agent Ross tackled Thornton. There was a second flash, the sound of a gunshot, and a splash in the water behind them. Stan looked up into the darkness, realizing someone had just tried to kill them.
“Stay down!” Agent Rutledge screamed, pulling out her gun and taking cover behind a thick post.
Stan crawled over to Thornton and cradled his head in his hands. “Brad! Can you hear me?” Stan yelled, pulling off his t-shirt and pressing it against the gushing wound. Brad’s eyes glazed over and then closed. Stan felt
his pulse; it was very weak. “We need a doctor!” he yelled.
“There’s a doctor in town,” Ruben advised. “I’ll go call him.”
Phil ran across the dock, down the dirt road to the bait shop, and went inside. Agent Ross took off in the direction of the shooter while Agent Rutledge stood guard over Thornton and Stan.
“Did you tell anyone we were picking you up here?” Agent Rutledge asked angrily.
“No,” Stan replied irritably. “I didn’t know about this place until yesterday when they flew me up here.”
“What about Horizon Charters? Did you tell anyone you were chartering from them?”
“Only Melissa since she was paying for the operation.”
Agent Rutledge shook her head irritably. “How about Paula or the professor?”
“They were in Mexico. I’m sure they didn’t tell anyone.”
“They may have told someone over the telephone.”
“No. They knew secrecy was important.”
Stan looked up as he heard the sound of a car coming quickly down the dirt road. A beat-up Chevy Malibu skidded to a stop near the dock. An elderly man got out and rushed over, carrying a medical bag.
“What happened?” he asked.
“He’s been shot,” Agent Rutledge replied. “He’s lost a lot of blood.
The doctor felt his pulse, looked at the wound, and sighed. “There’s a medivac helicopter on the way, but I don’t think it will get here in time. He’s barely hanging on.”
Stan stood up and walked a few steps away. He noticed Agent Ross returning from the hill where the sniper had taken his shot.
“He got away. I found two shell casings and some tire tracks, but that’s about it.”
“I can’t believe this,” Stan said tears welling in his eyes. “Paul’s probably dead and now Brad may die.”
Agent Ross shrugged. “The cartel must have discovered him missing.”
“But how could they set up a hit so fast? It’s only been a few hours,” Stan said angrily.
“I don’t know. Maybe they have a mole at Horizon Charters and put two and two together. An organization like the Burilo cartel probably has members sitting around waiting for sensitive assignments like this one.”
The doctor felt Thornton’s pulse again and then began pushing hard on his chest. In the distance, the sound of a helicopter floated over the trees. A moment later, it appeared overhead and set down on the road between the dock and the bait shop. Two medics came out, rushed over, and began taking vitals. A third medic brought out a rolling stretcher and rushed it over to where they were working on Thornton. A few seconds later, they loaded him aboard and rushed to the helicopter.
“Where are you taking him?” Agent Rutledge asked.
“Sharp Memorial,” the medic replied.
Agent Rutledge nodded as the helicopter took off and disappeared into the darkness.
“Come on, Stan,” Agent Rutledge said, seeing Stan wrapping his arms around himself to keep warm, “I think I’ve got an extra shirt in the car.”
Stan followed her to their car and watched her as she rummaged through the trunk. After a few seconds, she pulled out a FBI T-shirt and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” Stan said. “I can’t believe we went through all this for nothing.”
“Maybe Thornton will make it.”
“The doctor doesn’t’ think he will.”
“Let’s just wait and see. We should get you to your hotel. I bet you could use a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.”
“Aren’t you going to the hospital?” Stan asked.
“Yes, right after I drop you off at your hotel.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. You need your rest after the ordeal you’ve been through, and you have a flight bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. I should call my wife, too, and tell her I’m still alive.”
Agent Rutledge laughed. “I pity your wife having to put up with your escapades.”
“What about your husband? He must love waiting up for you at night, wondering if you’ll come home in one piece.”
“I’m not married. I wouldn’t put a man through that.”
“Good for you. Unfortunately, I didn’t plan the way my life has turned out. It just kind of fell into place.”
Agent Rutledge smiled ruefully and handed Stan her cell phone. “Call her now. No need to make her suffer any longer than necessary.”
“Oh, thanks,” Stan said, taking the phone and stepping a few yards away for privacy. He dialed the number and waited.
“Hello. It’s me.”
“Oh, thank God! I was so worried.”
“Piece a cake,” he lied.
“Yeah, I bet.”
“Unfortunately, a sniper just shot Brad and my boatman is missing. They’re taking Brad by helicopter to your old hospital.”
“Sharp?”
“I think that’s what I heard them say, Sharp Memorial.”
“Maybe I’ll call my friend Cecilia and see how he’s doing.”
“Yeah, do that, and I’ll call you from my motel in about an hour.”
“Alright. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Me too. I’ll talk to you later.”
Agent Rutledge watched Stan curiously as he talked to Rebekah. She had never known someone so dauntless. She envied his wonderful family and wondered if he knew how lucky he was to have them. She feared he didn’t and one day would lose them.
Stan hit the end button, walked over to Agent Rutledge, and handed her the phone back. “Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome. Let’s get you to your hotel.”
Stan yawned. “Good idea.”
It was almost an hour drive back to the hotel, and Stan dozed off several times on the way. When they left him off at the motel, instead of going to his room, he went across the street to the diner to eat some dinner since he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. The nightly special was Philadelphia cheese steak, so he ordered that and iced tea. While he was eating, all he could think about was Brad Thornton and his missing boatman. He just couldn’t understand how the killer could have known he was going to be landing on Lake Cuyamaca. He finally figured it just had to be bad luck. When the men babysitting Thornton realized what had happened, they guessed he’d been taken out by seaplane, and Lake Cuyamaca was the likely place to land.
After dinner, Stan went to his room, called the front desk for a wake-up call, and then called Rebekah to see if she had an update on Thornton’s condition. “So, what did you find out from Celia?” he asked.
“He died, Stan. He was dead when he arrived at the hospital.”
“Damn it! I suppose I should call Melissa.”
“Let the FBI do it.”
“No. I was supposed to call and give her a report on the mission anyway, so she’s waiting by the telephone.”
“You want me to call her?” Rebekah asked.
“No. I need to explain some things to her.”
“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye,” Stan said and hung up the telephone.
Stan found his wallet and located Melissa’s home telephone number. She had been released on her own recognizance due to the deal she’d made with the US Attorney.
“Stan, how did it go?”
“The mission went well. We got Brad out of Mexico, but—”
“But what?”
Stan sighed. “There was someone waiting for us when we landed the plane.”
Stan explained to her what had happened and how horrible he felt that Brad had been murdered. She was sobbing when he finished, struggling to keep her composure.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I was expecting good news. I was sure you’d get him out safely.”
“I don’t know how the cartel found out where we were taking him. They must have had an assassin in the San Diego area that they called the moment they discovered Brad was gone.”
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“They do have many contacts in that area. A lot of their drug trafficking takes place along the border between Mexico and California.”
“I guess we made the mistake of thinking he’d be safe once we got him back into the United States. I’m so sorry. I thought with the FBI there, everything would be okay.”
“No. It was my fault. I know this isn’t your line of business. I was foolish to force it on you. I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt. You were an angel for going through with my stupid plan.”
“Well, no one can blame you for trying. We almost got him home safely. Had you done nothing, he’d have died anyway. We all did what we could for Brad.”
“I’ll let you go. I know you must be very tired.”
“Exhausted, actually,” Stan admitted.
“Thank you, Stan. You’re a good man.”
“Well, you were a good wife. Not many women would have had the resourcefulness and determination to organize a rescue party to save a husband held by thugs in a foreign country.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The FBI made all the arrangements. I just spent every last dime I had funding it. Anyway, have a good night’s sleep.”
Stan hung up the telephone, turned out the light, and then went to bed. He slept soundly, his exhaustion trumping all the myriad of emotions he’d experienced over the last twenty-four hours. When he awoke at first light, it all seemed like it had been a dream until he realized he was in a motel room, then the reality of it came crashing down upon him. He wondered if Paula and Professor Hertel were okay. He looked at the clock and tried to think. They should be at their hotel by now if everything had gone as planned. He called the hotel and asked for Paula Waters’ room.
“We have no one at the hotel under that name,” a man advised.
“Oh? Hmm. Try Harry Hertel.”
“Harry...Harry...oh, yes. I’ll connect you.”
“Hello,” Paula said.
“Oh, thank God!” Stan exclaimed. “You’re okay.”
“Yes, and since you’re calling, you must be too.”
“Not entirely. Did you hear about Brad?”
“No. What happened?”
Stan explained what had happened after they’d landed the sea plane.
“Oh, no. Damn it! I can’t believe the FBI let that happen.”
“We can’t blame it on them. We all underestimated the Burilo cartel. In retrospect, we should have thought more about what dangers there would be after we rescued him. We should never have landed at the same place we took off. That just made it too easy for them.”
“Oh, it was my fault too. I encouraged you too much without thinking of the possible consequences of what we were undertaking. I was just so got caught up in the excitement of it all, and I didn’t think it through.”
“Well, we’ll know better for our next covert operation.”
“Huh? You know something I don’t know?” Paula questioned.
“No. . . . Just kidding.”
“Good. We should probably just concentrate on graduating from law school.”
“Probably,” Stan agreed.
“Well, I’ll see you Monday in class.”
“Alright. See you then.”
Stan hung up the phone, called Rebekah and the kids, and then left for the airport. His flight was uneventful, and early in the afternoon, he arrived at Dallas Love Field. He’d left his car there, so he drove straight home. As he drove, he started to think about how Thornton’s death would affect Carlos Morales and the investors in Silver Springs Ventures. He hoped Carlos Morales wouldn’t be off the hook now with Thornton out of the way because Stan considered him responsible for the murder of the Shepard family, as well as Brad Thornton. But he wondered about Commissioner Barnes and the other names he’d seen on the investor list. Would the FBI still indict them? Thinking back to his conversation with Rob, he could understand how they’d gotten hooked into the scheme. He almost felt sorry for them, because he knew if criminal indictments came out on them, their lives would quickly crumble.