Peter. We all want her back.”
“Yeah. Well, just keep me up to speed if any more is learned.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not going to sit around and do nothing.”
“Good! Look, if I can do anything at all, call me.”
He wrote her private cellphone number on the envelope. As she began to pull the door handle, he looked at her and said, “Cybil, Rachael told me about you and Jamie. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have helped.”
She patted his arm as tears welled in her eyes. “Peter, you tried. You tried. I loved him and miss him every day. I don’t want you to feel this way. Get her back!” She quickly left his car, unable to say more.
He then drove down to Roosevelt Park to be alone along the Potomac. Staring out the windshield at the river, he hesitated when opening the envelope.
When he returned back at the Bureau, Gates had left a note on Peter’s desk to see him. “Colonel, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes, Peter, sit down. I was just informed through channels that the El Paso Station Chief, Mike Schmitt, got an email from the Cardenas Cartel.”
“I know Chief Schmitt. So what did it say?” Peter had his hands clasped on his thighs.
“I don’t know the details, but you better call him.”
He stood and started to walk out when Gates continued, “Peter, if you want to go back to El Paso, I’ll make it official this time.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
He hurried back to his office, and called Chief Schmitt who was waiting for the call. “Peter, I got this message that I’ll send to you. I’ve already sent it to DHS and all the three-letter agencies.”
“Mike, tell me what it says.”
“Peter ... it says that there will be another spectacle on YouTube tonight. It goes on with a lot of bullshit about stopping the war on him, Cardenas, and some other sadistic ranting about the ‘CIA woman’, etc. I really don’t want to go into details, but you get the point. I think he’s going to kill Ms. Aston tonight. Sorry, I know she meant something to you.”
“Yeah. ‘Something’.” He didn’t appreciate Schmitt’s past tense.
“Peter, if I could do anything, inbounds or out, I’d do it. I just don’t know what.”
“Look, Mike. I’m coming down.”
“Good, all my troops want to help. Oh, yeah, Peter. You should know that he copied the local news stations on the message, so this will be viral.”
His head was throbbing, “Look, Mike. Thanks. I’ll see you later today, as soon as I can get there.”
“Hey, one more thing. Your buddy Stokes. He’s already on his way here too.”
Peter had enough to worry about without concern for John and Carolyn. In the meantime, Gates came into his office with some papers. “Here you go, Peter, orders to support the Texas Guard in El Paso. You’ll report admin-wise to Light Colonel Marian Colson, but the orders say you have direct tactical control under the Director.”
“Thanks, Colonel, this is super. How about transport?”
“I’m working on it, you get home and pack. I’ll have you outbound before you’re done.”
“Roger that, Sir.”
“And, Peter. Good luck, son.” Gates extended his hand.
Jailed
Rachael hit her head on the bulkhead as the plane hopped on landing, bruising her shoulder. After some fast turns, the pitch of the engines resonated from inside a hangar before shutting down. Her bare feet were unbound, but her hands were tied behind, and the bag on her head was soaked from exhaling for several hours. She was hurt and exhausted when the door was opened and she was jerked to her feet. Two men gripped her upper arms as she stumbled down the unseen stairs from the plane. Both shins were scraped and bleeding.
They threw her onto the rear seat of a car, which started to move immediately. Other than engine smells inside the hangar, there were no sensual or visual clues about her location, although within seconds, she could feel the heat of sunrays coming through the windows. Men were talking in the front seat, but she didn’t understand them. The car made several turns, initially, then drove at high speed on a straight course for a long time. The seat smelled moldy and didn’t provide much isolation from ruts in the road. At the speed they were travelling without stopping, she assumed they were on some kind of major highway. She had no way to gauge time, but it was at least half an hour.
Scared, exhausted and injured, Rachael’s apprehension increased when the car slowed, turning abruptly before stopping temporarily while someone exited, leaving the door open and the engine idling. She could vaguely hear the metallic sound of a chain and creaking gate opening. Then the person returned to the car and they drove a short distance before stopping. The door by her feet opened, and she was pulled by her ankles half way out before her legs were dropped onto the pavement. Two men grabbed her roughly, pulling her backward and upward, forcing her to walk before she was balanced.
Within minutes, she was thrown into a jail cell where her bindings were cut free. Pushing up from the dirt-crusted floor, she was able to sit and remove the bag over her head, throwing it violently. Her eyes adjusted to the small adobe cell with rusted bars at one end. The door was open, and a dark evil-looking man in a rumpled suit stood alone, staring at her. He had an amused look on his face. “Good day, Miss Aston. I trust you had an enjoyable trip?”
“Who, who are you? Where am I, and why am I here!”
Padilla didn’t answer her questions directly. “Who I am is not important, but let us say that you are in my care at this old abandoned federal prison, somewhere in Mexico. Why you are here is a bit more complicated.”
“You people are insane! I assume you’re with that lunatic Cardenas, and you know who I am.”
The man stood erect with his hands folded in front, “Oh, yes, we know who you are, and, soon, the whole world will see you on TV.”
“What! What do you mean?” Fear overtook her.
“Oh, you will see. For now, enjoy the comforts of our hospitality.”
“I’m hungry and need to clean up!”
“All in good time. All in good time.”
He pulled the old steel gate closed with a loud “clunk.” She looked around at the space, no larger than her bedroom closet. It had a filthy old cot and a sink and open toilet with no seat or running water. Sitting on the very edge of the thin decayed feather mattress, she imagined all the microscopic creatures inside. The room was void of anything else and hadn’t been cleaned in decades. At least there were no snakes.
After a few moments alone, however, fear gripped her as she remembered how Billy Ware was murdered in front of the whole world. Suddenly, nothing mattered. She thought about Peter. He must be going crazy.
Return to Action
“Look, Carolyn, I’m going back to help Peter, that’s all.”
Her face was streaming tears, “John, you’re not well enough, and you’ll get killed.”
He loved her so much. He stopped packing and held her, “Look, sweetheart. I don’t know what we can do down there, but it’s for Rachael. You wouldn’t like me very much if anything happened to her, and I sat here on my ass. Look. I’m more fit than ninety percent of the police and military, so I can’t hide behind some supposed disability. Besides, I owe Peter my life, and he couldn’t live without her.”
“I know, I know. I want her back too, but you guys are not the ones to do it.” Exhaling and looking down, she shrugged, “You’re also the best guys to save her.”
He tossed his bag over his shoulder, kissing her passionately. “Hug the girls for me. I gotta run to the airport.”
She followed to his truck. “You need to wash this thing.”
Starting the engine, he said, “Yeah, when I get back. I’ll call tonight. I love you.”
In Washington Peter called Gates after packing his gear and clothing. “All right, Peter, you need to get ove
r to Andrews ASAP. Got a C38A from the ANG (Air National Guard) on standby.”
“Thanks, Colonel. I’ll get you a sitrep once I know what’s going on.”
En route to the Air Force Base, he called LTC Marian Colson to let her know he was coming. She said someone would meet him. There was a misty, chilly rain falling and a slight wind, but the traffic was unaffected. The trip to Andrews took only forty minutes, and the plane was waiting at the ANG hangar. It was already preflight checked and fueled. It took less than five minutes after Peter boarded for the engines to reach temperature and start the takeoff roll. The C38 is a militarized version of the Gulfsteam G200, produced under license by Israeli Aircraft Industries. It can fly at over 500 miles per hour at 45,000 feet. Its all-weather range is 2700 miles.
Once airborne, the plane banked left sharply to course 260 degrees, while passing through 5000 feet. Once on course, the pilot engaged the autopilot and announced, “Sir, we’ve got a slight headwind, so the computer is showing three hours twenty to touchdown. That should put us on the ground just before 1400 local.”
Peter moved aft to the VHF secure command radio console away from the flight crew. He contacted ARNG headquarters, “This is Major Shields, requesting phone patch, over.”
“Major Shields, on whose authority are you using this comm frequency? Over.”
“LTC Colonel Gates at HQ, over.”
After a few moments the operator replied, “Ah, roger, Major. What do you require?”
“Phone patch.” He supplied the number. The radio operator initiated