(This story happens some weeks after Cheyenne's Revenge)
**No problem becomes impossible until you stop trying to solve it**
So I found myself lying down in a barn, back against a stall, being ridden like a stallion by a girl I barely knew and was coming not to like. I had to ask myself, how did this happen?
The job was not easy, or safe, but it was fairly direct. An heiress had been kidnapped and the kidnappers wanted two million dollars and no police or the girl would be killed. The father went to my employer, who brought me in. I reasoned that these guys were professionals that had done this type of thing before. If we met their demand, they would return the girl. Dead victims are bad for business. They make people do things like call in the FBI.
They gave me the two million in two large cases. I rigged them with dye packets keyed to a combination lock. I took a fixed up sedan, with bullet resistant glass and side panels. I didn't expect trouble, but I planned for it. As per my normal operating procedure, I didn't carry a gun. Having a gun wouldn't help in this situation and since I planned to do what they asked, I was hoping not to need one. I was contacted by the kidnappers, agreed to their meeting in the hills, and confirmed my plan with the boss. Everything went according to plan right up until the lead kidnapper stepped out of the van.
"If it isn't the great Taylor Eden," the guy said. It was Ted McNair. We had a history, or more to the point, he tried to burn me on a contract we were both on (I never betray a client) and I left him in a Guatemalan prison. I was getting the vibe that he'd never forgiven or forgotten.
"Hey Ted. You look good. I'd like to talk about old times, but I think we have some business to conclude first. We can catch up once the contract is complete," I stated evenly.
"Of course, you were always totally reliable. Let's get down to business," Ted nodded. I went to the back seat of the car and pulled out the first large case. I heard sliding door on the van open and several people get out. I walked to the halfway point, knelt by the case and disarmed it. A deterrent doesn't deter if the other guy doesn't know about it. I tried to keep my cool. There were two guys with assault rifles and two other men with pistols. There was the sixth man behind the wheel of the van. I would have had to be an idiot to not felt that sinking feeling in the bottom of my heart. I tried to remember if I'd kissed Cheyenne good-bye before heading out that morning.
"What's with the case, Eden?" Ted inquired.
"Dye packs set to go off in one hour, or if the wrong combination is entered," I responded. "Now I want to see the girl before you get the other half of the money."
"Otto, check out the case," Ted directed one of the men with an assault rifle. "Eden's honest, but he's also stupid," he added with an evil grin.
'Yeah,' I thought, 'I'm probably not walking out of here alive.' I had to keep going. Priority One was to save the girl. It is what I had been paid to do. The man walked up holding the assault rifle in on hand while he opened the case and looked inside. Otto grinned back at Ted.
"It's here."
"Bring out Ms. Todd," Ted directed. Ms. Melinda Todd, spoiled rich brat with a doting father. Twenty one and always privileged, I was wondering how she was holding up to the stress. She was blindfolded and her hands were tied in front of her.
"Take off the blindfold and cut her loose. I want to see what I'm buying," I directed. Ted nodded and my request was answered. She looked scared and a little dirty, but alert. At this point I was sure that I was gone to die.
"Let her come to the halfway point and I'll get the rest of the money," I told Ted.
"Melinda, go to the nice man. He's here to rescue you," Ted said. Melinda started stumbling toward me. She was squinting in the morning light. She had just had a blindfold removed and she was adjusting as fast as she could. I didn't think it mattered. I was now sure they would kill me the moment they got the rest of the money. Ted wasn't going to be professional. This was personal. What really bit was that they were going to kill Melinda too.
I back toward the car. I opened the front door, cut the engine on. They didn't react. It was most likely that five men were going to blow the crap out of me way before I could get back here. I went to the back seat and got the other large case out. As my mentor once said 'no problem is impossible until you stop trying to solve it.' I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew if I stopped they would kill Melinda. I didn't know her, but she was the contract, and I was most likely going to die uselessly trying to save her.
I came up with the case while scoping the competition. Melinda stood beside Otto, with the first case of money between them. The second guy with an assault rifle was resting, but alert against the front of the van. Ted was between that man and me. The two men with pistols were still by the van's sliding door. I was outgunned, outnumbered and on ground of my enemy's choosing. Sun Tzu should have risen up from the grave and pummeled me.
My assets? Otto was standing too close to the money, thus me. Ted didn't want to just kill me; he wanted to make me suffer. My kneecaps didn't appreciate the sentiment since they were likely the first to go if things got nasty, which was what was going to happen. I had to figure how to use those two things. I came up to Otto and smiled.
"You are going to be a rich man," I told him. He nodded and smiled. He knew I was going to die – bastard. I put the case down and rolled the combination. As I hoped, this got Otto's attention.
"Go to the car, Melinda," I told her in the most casual voice I could manage. I really hoped my fear wasn't showing. I stood up. Ted was about to say something.
I drove my fist into Otto's solar plexus. On the counter move, I grabbed the assault rifle from him and put him between me and Ted. Otto was still struggling for breath when I jammed the rifle into his ribs.
"Melinda, in the car now!" I shouted. "Ted, I'm leaving here and you can have the money. This doesn't have to go down this way." Ted looked mildly surprised, looking down his drawn pistol at me. I heard Melinda's feet scrambling up the road. I had to admire her keen survival instincts. I hoped she would get to exercise those instincts into her nineties.
"Well damn, Taylor. You are not a total moron, but it is still five against one," Ted grinned. I didn't like the way Ted was counting. There was Ted plus five kidnappers, but sadly I had only one under my power. I knew what was about to happen next.
"Sorry Otto," Ted said right before firing two rounds into Otto's chest. I guess it is easier to split two million five ways than six. Good news: I now only had five guys left to go. Bad news: they were all pointing guns at me and I was standing in the middle of the road with my dick n my hand (figuratively speaking).
Rule Number One in a gun fight is to seek cover. Do not fire back - dive, roll, sprint – do whatever you have to do to put something between you and a bullet. Cemeteries are full of guys who thought they could shoot back first. I had no such luck. There was a ditch about seven feet away, and the car was over twenty.
Rule Number Two in a gunfight is if you can't seek cover, make yourself as small a target as possible. I knelt and began firing as Otto fell past me. Ted was tracking me, but I was a hair faster. I fired three bullets down range. Ted rolled aside. Had I taken this thing personally, I would have kept firing until I hit him. Thing was, I wasn't trying to hit him. I shot the guy with the other assault rifle in his stomach, slamming him against the grill of the van.
Shots were flying around me and I got slammed to the ground. Bullets will do that to you. I screamed like a bastard. Men who take a bullet and tough it out without a sound are a whole lot more of a man than I am. I hate pain. It is right up there on my List of Least Favorite thing right next to getting shot. My basic human chemistry took over: pain lessened and a certain bizarre clarity took hold. Oh, I kept screaming like a little girl, but my eyes were telling me I had been shot in the shoulder. Blood wasn't fountaining out, so my artery wasn't busted. My fingers flexed in my left hand. It hurt, but it was still semi-functional. Semi- being the operative word.
Lucky me, I had chosen an assault rifle, which requires two hands. Hollywood likes the whole Rambo-esque vision of guys firing a big gun in one hand while on the run. Sure, I can hit the broadside of a barn doing it that way. Barns are big and don't shoot back. My main advantage was rules number One and Two. The three guys with pistols were trying to make them as small as possible. I forced myself back into a kneeling position and went for the old 'pray and spray' maneuver. I simply spayed bullets all around and prayed that they would keep their heads down. I think they did manage to get some shots off, but the Patron Saint of Lost Causes was clearly looking out for me.
I staggered to my feet and kept shooting. No barns made themselves available to be killed. I certainly didn't hit any people. As I made it to my driver side door, I turned and steadied my rifle on the door and fired into the radiator of the van. I got off a few rounds then gun clicked empty. I hate guns. I've never had my fists run out of ammo when I really needed them.
Now that I didn't have the thunder of a gun going off in my head, I heard Melinda screaming at me.
"Get in the back you idiot!"
Running away from people seeking my imminent demise was a sensation from my past that I would have loved never to have experienced again. I dove into the back seat and Melinda floored it. The car lurched forward as I clawed my way into further into the car. I started choking back tears as Melinda zipped passed the van. Shots zinged around car and I thanked God for upgrading the windows. As we sped away I started to sob.
"Are you okay?" Melinda asked. She was looking at me.
"Eyes on the road," I begged her. We were doing forty-five down a dirt road. Running off would have really sucked considering that neither one of us was buckled in.
"You're crying," she observed. "What kind of bodyguard are you?" she added angrily.
"I'm not crying because I'm in pain," I ground out. "I'm crying because you are driving the wrong way down a dead end road."
She made a little "Oh" sound.
She sped down the road for about a minute before either one of us spoke.
"The road runs down around ten miles from where I picked you up. There is a house at the end of the road. If we are lucky they will have a phone," I told her.
"Don't you have a cell phone?" she growled. I tossed my phone onto the front seat with her. More accurately, I tossed the bullet-busted remains of my phone. I had a whole in my jacket I could put my thumb through. I wasn't sure how the bullet missed me.
"Are you good at this?" she asked.
"You aren't dead yet, are you? Trust me, right after they finished with me, they would have put you in the grave beside me. We weren't supposed to make it out of there alive."
"Why didn't you kill more of them?" she continued. She was really starting to get on my nerves.
"My top priority was to get you out safely. That meant I had to put myself at risk," I pointed out.
"You haven't done a good job," she commented. "I'm still in danger."
"If it is any consolation, they will kill me first." If I had any luck left they would kill both of us soon so she would shut the fuck up, I thought.
"That doesn't make me feel better at all," she snapped.
"We need to get some things straight. I'm not your bodyguard. Your Dad hired someone to rescue you and that person hired me. I've done this before though this is the first time someone has tried to kill me. Maybe you really pissed them off," I lied.
"I don't see how," she told me. "I never did anything to them."
