The Tesla Gate (19 page)

I guess I could try to justify it by saying I was distracted by the news of Miss Chenowith, or I was trying to keep Seth protected by bringing him to what I thought was a safe and secluded place, but those were just excuses. It was my fault and my responsibility; I would have to live with the consequences of my irresponsible decision.

I turned my head as much as I could to look out the back window of the SUV. I had never seen the odd mix of colors at daybreak as the black-light weirdness gave way to lavender skies. It was actually one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen; I just wished I weren't watching it through tinted windows or in these circumstances. As I took at the amazing montage of colors, I noticed something else very odd. The sky seemed to be pulsating like a blue strobe light. A moment later, I realized that it was not part of the phenomenon because Butch cried out and the SUV began to accelerate.

“Hold on, Howie!” He sputtered, “It's the cops!”

CHAPTER 21

Officer Pace

“To Protect and to Serve”

—Police credo

The rope pulled taut against my neck as the vehicle took off at a great rate of speed. I was just moments from not being able to breathe at all when our speed evened out and the G-force pulling on my body dropped enough that the rope loosened. My first impulse was to be happy that these two scumbags were about to be caught and Seth and I would be freed, but when I considered the bigger picture it scared the hell out of me. If the 911 operator had been working in conjunction with the military, the odds were that the police would be, as well. Even if they managed to take these two degenerates safely into custody, they would probably take Seth, too. I didn't see any other way out of this. Either way, it looked bad for Seth and me.

The chase was over as soon as it began. Butch erupted into a fit of coughs that shook the vehicle violently with each sputtering heave. A few seconds later, we careened off the road, bounced twice, and came to a vicious halt. I was thrown skywards as the rope binding my neck pulled like a garrote against my Adam's apple. Before the cutting pain could register, I saw Howie fly forward, his gun careening in the air. My heart almost stopped when it flew back over the seat and landed inches from my head. Thankfully, it didn't go off.

“Let's get out of here!” Howie shrieked as he flung half of his body over the seat to retrieve his gun. I almost felt sorry for him again because he sounded like a terrified kid. His partner in crime replied with only a rasping heave and cough as he lunged out the door.

My neck was on fire from rope burns and I felt like my throat was the size of a drinking straw. I wheezed and coughed as badly as my asthmatic captor. Reaching up with the panic of a drowning man, I pulled against the rope. To my surprise, it came loose. I propped myself up on my elbows as every square inch of my neck screamed in hideous protest. I gasped and sputtered for air so desperately that I barely noticed what was happening outside.

“Freeze!” the cop shouted from behind the vehicle. I looked back to see him standing behind the open driver's side door of the patrol car with his gun drawn and pointed directly at Howie.

“Drop it, asshole!” the cop ordered as he reinforced his grip on the handgun and cocked his head to signal he was also reinforcing his aim.

Howie did the first intelligent thing I had seen him do yet: he dropped the gun like it was a hot potato. But it seemed that Howie had a daily allotment of intelligence and he had just spent it all. I did feel a little sorry for him after what happened next. He turned his head as if to seek approval from his partner. I followed his gaze even though I was still fighting for breath. Before I could take two deep breaths, I saw him take off out of the corner of my eye.

“Hamm!” he shrieked with horror.

This was followed by another forceful command from the police officer.

“Stop!” he ordered.

Howie didn't pay any attention, so what happened next was inevitable. I jumped, my breath catching in my already narrow throat, as two loud pops rang out. I knew what it was before I looked; the cop had opened fire.

I managed to pull myself up and drape my arms and upper torso over the back seat. In a desperate juggling act, I tried to get air back into my deprived lungs and see what was going on at the same time outside. I could only turn myself halfway, as my feet were still tightly bound to the spare tire well.

“Don't move!” the cop yelled as he cautiously crept around the vehicle with his gun still brandished in front of him. He disappeared behind a group of trees directly in front of us. I couldn't believe he hadn't checked the inside of the vehicle but I guess he had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

“Daddy?” A small frightened voice called in almost whisper.

“Seth?” I squeaked from my damaged gullet like someone slowly letting the air out of a balloon.

I looked up and saw him peering at me from the passenger side floor board, his knees hugged to his chest like someone in mortal terror. The damned iron collar was still around his little neck.

I took as deep a breath as I possibly could, figuring I would have one shot at this before the cop came back and inspected the vehicle.

“I need you to hide, buddy!” I said, sounding like air escaping from a punctured tire, but Seth understood. His head dipped out of view and I heard him grunting like he had the night he pushed through our living room chair. A few moments later, I saw the police officer coming back, his gaze and gun were focused on our vehicle. As he made his way toward the passenger door I intentionally lurched out with my legs causing me to roll sideways and smack hard against the side of the cargo area. It was sufficient enough that the cop turned his attention from the front of the vehicle and now focused on me.

“Come out slowly, with your hands up!” he ordered.

I took another deep and rattling breath then exhaled with all my might.

“Help.”

“Who's back there?” he bellowed.

I took another deep breath.

“Hostage … hurt.”

A moment later I heard the latch on the cargo door click, and then it slowly opened. The cop stood to the side with his gun trained on me. He looked at me suspiciously and then looked at the rope binding my feet.

“Anyone else?” he asked.

I couldn't muster another deep breath at the moment so I vehemently shook my head.

He gave the backseat a perfunctory glance then holstered his gun and removed a pocketknife from his belt. Moments later my legs were free.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

I shrugged and took another deep wheezing breath as I massaged my neck.

The cop removed his sunglasses and narrowed his gray eyes as he examined my neck.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “What the hell did they do to you?”

I made a motion like I was tying up something and then pointed to my neck.

“How did you get loose?”

I pretended like I was steering a vehicle and then turned hard. I then made an up-and-down bouncing motion with my hand.

The cop shook his head sympathetically.

“My God, do you need an ambulance? I already called one for the other two,” he said pointing to the radio mic clipped to his shoulder.

My heart jumped. More people were on their way, and it was just a matter of time before Seth was discovered. The truth is I probably did need one, or at the very least I needed to go see a doctor, but I couldn't risk the exposure. I couldn't leave Seth or he would be discovered for sure. I animatedly shook my head.

“I'll be fine,” I exhaled, sounding like Marlon Brando in
The Godfather
. My breathing was starting to get a little better, but it was a long way from normal. Why the hell that simpleton had decided to tie me like that I did not know. That made me wonder if he had been shot or possibly even be dead.

“Holy crap!” the cop exclaimed looking over my shoulder. “It is true!”

He turned and sprinted back to his patrol car and quickly popped the trunk. He produced two large iron chains attached to what appeared to be iron handcuffs. My heart leapt into my throat, my only thought was that Seth had been discovered. An image played in my mind's eye like a cruel movie, an image of Seth being bound and transported away from me like the little girl in the truck. I would never see him again. I stumbled out the back of the SUV, my legs were as steady as a newborn giraffe's and a moment later I landed flat on my gut knocking what little wind I had left out of me.

“No!” I tried to yell but it came out sounding like
“h-h-h-h-h”
.

I rolled on my side and watched as the cops shiny black shoes pounded through the dust and away from the vehicle. He was not running to snatch Seth out of the SUV or even pursue him into the woods; he was running for Howie and a large behemoth of a man that looked suspiciously like Jabba the Hutt with legs. Hamm was not too far off from my mental image I had developed listening to him cough and hack the last few hours.

He was fat, bald, and could have been the poster boy for redneck slobs of America. But that was not what I initially noticed. What I initially noticed is that there was two of each of them. One sprawled on the ground like a restful sleeper and another standing beside the sleeper, all silvery and shiny, with a look of pure horror on their faces. Judging by the blood on the back of the “sleeping” Howie, I would say he became an RDI via his stupidity – the officer had told him to stop. I saw no blood on the “sleeping” Hamm, so the only guess I could come up with is that he keeled over with a heart attack. I think that logic is sound based on his size and respiratory condition.

Neither of them put up any resistance as the officer knocked them to the ground with the iron chains with a couple of quick Indiana Jones movements. He then had their hands chained like a couple of hapless sheep being led to the slaughter. The officer herded them to the back of the patrol car and forced them in the back seat. They complied with no argument; I think these two criminals would be in shock for some time.

The officer slammed the door shut and adjusted his uniform, then wiped sweat from his brow. He then strode back to me.

“Okay, where is he?” the cop asked softly.

I blinked up at him, the sun blinding me as I tried to focus. I shook my head and shrugged.

He removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiped his cheeks and mouth, then squatted down beside me.

“I know that these two stole your vehicle and had a little goblin boy sneaking into stores to steal for them. Where is he and who is he?”

I realized that playing stupid would get me nowhere. Look what it had done for Howie. From my vantage point on the ground I could see Seth's small legs protruding through the floorboard and almost touching the ground. The poor kid was trying to get as low as he could to hide, just as I had told him, but the iron collar severely limited his mobility. I could lay here and act ignorant and shrug my shoulders, but Seth would be noticed. It was only a matter of time.

I struggled to get up. The cop extended his left hand and helped me into a seated position. I took a deep breath before I replied.

“He's my son.”

The officer looked at me for a long moment.

“Are you Thomas Pendleton?”

I blinked in surprise. How did he … But before I could ask the question in my head, he smiled and pointed to the radio mic clipped to his shirt.

“Called in your tags.”

I nodded.

“I'm Officer Pace. Officer Clint Pace.”

I raised my hand to shake his but he quickly stood up.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't shake hands when I'm wearing a gun. It's not good practice.”

He offered me his left hand again – not his gun hand – and helped me to my feet. Once I was upright and eye level, he asked again.

“Where is your son?”

I instinctively glanced at the SUV and Officer Pace picked up on this right away. He cautiously walked to the passenger door and opened it. In the floorboard, only visible from the chest up, was Seth. His mouth gaped in terror as the formidably-sized policeman towered over him.

“Come on, son,” he said in a kind voice. “You can't stay in there; it isn't safe.”

Seth looked at me for reassurance and I calmly nodded my head. I didn't know what the hell else to do. I was far from calm on the inside. I actually, for a moment, considered overpowering Officer Pace, but I knew that in my weakened state that would be a fruitless effort. It would probably make things worse.

Seth grudgingly got to his feet then pushed sideways and through the running board until he was clear of the vehicle.

“Are you okay?” he asked Seth with the same soothing voice.

I have to admit, I was a little shocked. I had expected him to treat Seth similarly to the two hoodlum Impals he had just cuffed and stuffed. Maybe not quite that viciously because Seth had been forced into his short stint of juvenile larceny, but he was still just a “goblin boy,” as Officer Pace had described.

He smiled at Seth and walked back to me.

“Do you know what my orders are to do with Impals?”

I nodded my head and swallowed hard, wincing with pain as my own saliva felt like molten lava pouring down my damaged throat.

Officer Pace reached into his pocket and produced a memo pad and ink pen then handed them to me.

I took the pen and wrote:
I thought it was only for RDIs – the recently deceased
.

Officer Pace shook his head.

“Hell, it doesn't matter anymore, not that it ever did. How can you tell the difference? They all look alike.”

I gulped painfully. That had been my thought exactly.

Officer Pace looked at me apologetically like he had just uttered a racial slur.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

I wrote again:
I understand what you mean. Please don't take my son. He is a PDI and he's all I have. I was taking him to Washington, trying to fulfill a promise I made to him before he…

I stopped writing as I reached up to wipe a tear that was streaming down my cheek.

Officer Pace looked at me sympathetically and put a hand on my shoulder. At that moment we heard the distant sound of several sirens approaching.

Officer Pace pulled me close as he spoke harshly into my ear.

“Let's get one thing straight. You were driving across country and these two punks travelling with an Impal kid jumped you and took your vehicle with you as a hostage. They dumped the kid out a couple of miles back when I started to chase them. They wrecked here and I had to use deadly force on one, and the other expired as a result of his own fat-laden ass. Got it?” he finished like a drill sergeant.

Officer Pace turned to Seth.

“Son, I need you to run that way,” he said pointing at the distant woods. “There is a deadfall of trees a short way up there. Stay there until I or your dad come to get you. Got it?”