Trellis Page 14

  Colin needed to be out in the great outdoors, down to the bare basics. He wanted to smell the wind coming off the mountain, watch the stars twinkling above, catching and cooking his own food, and sleeping outside. He needed his senses reawakened. Rawness in the great outdoors, persistence in grit, and endurance. It was essential for him to leave behind the paperwork and protocol of the bureau.

  Around his shoulder and chest was his gun holster holding his snub nose 357 magnum and Velcro’d to the holster was a small can of pepper spray. In all the years the group had been coming here they had only seen a couple of black bears, they never bothered the campers much, though, Banks wasn’t one to take a chance with bears. He leaned over and gingerly pulled the wire grate towards him with his hunting knife and carefully pulled the fish out of the square grate and placed it on his blue speckled camping plate. The warmth of the campfire scent drifted through the air and the smell of the fish were aromas he missed when he was in the city.

  When he had finished eating he slid his snow boots back on his feet, took the cooking gear, and plate to the stream cleaning them up. His campsite was at least 70 feet from the stream, far enough away from his tent to not worry about black bears smelling what he was washing down stream, and come snooping while he was sleeping. When he was done, he walked to a place he had already strapped a thin nylon rope, bagged up his dishes, food, and hoisted the bag high in the air. Securing the rope to an adjacent tree and tying it with a knot.

  He finally settled back down by the fire, the sun was slipping behind the mountain, and it wouldn’t be long before it would be completely dark, and the temperature dropped. He yawned, reached for his backpack, and carefully took out his worn bible. Flipping through delicate pages, he turned to the front pages and ran his rough fingers over the carefully written name of Merle Colin Banks, his father. He missed his father and mother. Having his father’s bible brought a little comfort to an otherwise sad reminder that they were no longer here.

  He pushed that thought aside to the corner of his heart that protected their memory and began reading, looking up every now and then when he heard a branch snap or wind rustle the trees. He closed the bible and reflected about his job.

  ‘Do I need to make a decision; do I leave the bureau and look for something else? Do I go to someone higher up and report the injustice that happened this week with Peter Coughlin and the mysterious girl? Would I even be thinking this way if my heart wasn’t so heavy with the recent loss of mom and dad? Was there someone in the office that was in Coughlin’s pocket, a mole? I’m not one to question authority as long as the authority followed protocol, and what Coughlin did this week defied protocol and then stomped it in to dust.’

  He picked up the fire poker and pushed some logs around watching the fire lick up in to the air and loose ashes float away on the breeze.

  Something was stirring in him, he wanted to scream it to the world that Coughlin overstepped his boundaries, that months of hard work by extremely overworked underpaid agents were undermined with no explanation.

  Maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing? Perhaps it would work its self out on its own? So many questions were swirling around in his thoughts he had hoped he would be able to sleep. One thing for sure he knew, he would pray about it tonight and give it to God.

  He let the fire die down to a small grey ash with only the red embers glowing while the darkness draped his camp. Placing the snowsuit on the small tent floor, he unrolled his sleeping bag on top of the extra cushion the snowsuit provided. He pulled some silver packets from his pocket and ripped the top off exposing the contents to air and thus heating up the little heating pouches. He tossed them in his sleeping bag knowing they would help keep him warm tonight. He knew his Special Force brothers would give him a hard time if they saw this pansy comfort he brought. Climbing in, he zipped up the door, shutting out the loud whipping chilly wind that was now becoming more apparent as he tried to sleep.

  At some point in the night’s darkness his eyes closed and he dozed off even with the cold wind shaking the small tent. He would sleep till morning only to be woken up by a shuffling of noises and metal rods from the fire being moved around.

  “What in the world,” he whispered.

  He sat up grabbing the 357 magnum from his shoulder holster still strapped around him, leaned forward to the zipper, and carefully began to raise the zipper up opening enough for him to see a large black bear 30 feet away rummaging through the burned out campfire.

  He completely unzipped the bag and jumped out making a racket and screaming hoping to scare the bear off, mace in one hand and his firearm in the other. The bear looked at him slowly and then set his search back at the ashes of the burned out fire.

  “Seriously? Get out of here!” He waved his arms dramatically at his unwelcomed guest. The bear finally decided he had had enough and slowly waddled away. Colin watched until the bear was out of complete sight before he eased up his grip on the gun. He placed the Velcro side of the pepper spray on the holster strap and slid his gun back in its place. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a silent prayer up to God for keeping him out of harm’s way.

  The rest of the day was uneventful and he enjoyed his afternoon in the wilderness. At three o’clock he heard the helicopter round the mountain top and he looked down at his watch, and thought, ‘an hour early, Fur’.

  When Jase Furlough finally landed his craft and walked to the fire that Colin had made he announced, “I brought dinner?”

  “Dinner? You’re and hour early.”

  “Yeah, I know I got done with work early.”

  “What did you bring?” Colin asked looking at the bag Furlough had at his side.

  “Chicken and the fixins,” Furlough answered as he held up the bag containing white Styrofoam containers.

  “You should have opened with that information. Now that I know you have fried chicken you can stay.” Colin smirked.

  “Mine is chicken, yours is roadkill.” Jase smiled back.

  “I’ve eaten worse.”

  “We both have!”

  The two men sat down opposite sides of one another with the fire between them. Colin had unzipped his heavy snow coat revealing a lighter weight jacket, which was more appropriate at the base of the mountain for today’s weather. The snow pants he wore were almost too warm for the forty-five degree weather and for sitting this close to the fire.

  They ate the greasy chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans flavored in bacon grease, and buttery biscuits as they talked.

  “So do you like flying a helicopter for civilians?” Colin asked.

  “It’s a job, I work the hours I want, and I am my own boss. In other words, it pays the bills.” Furlough answered shoving his empty container in the plastic bag.

  “Yeah, I understand.” Colin agreed while smearing his biscuit across the bottom of the container where his mashed potatoes and gravy didn’t make it to his fork.

  “What about you? You like it at the bureau?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that,” Colin replied as he tossed his paper napkin in the fire. “You know when we were in Special Forces we were told what to do by people that we trusted. The line between black and white was clear, between right and wrong, bad guy and good guy, at the bureau that line seems fuzzy anymore.”

  “Are you thinking about leaving?” Furlough asked as he sat straight up and listened intently.

  “What am I going to do if I leave? There isn’t much out there for guys with our skill set, not in the general population anyway. I’ll be fine. I needed to get away from the field for a few days, away from suspects, paperwork, and superiors.”

  “What happened?”

  “Have you been out of the game so long that you think I am going to answer that?” Colin balked as he looked sternly at Furlough.

  “I guess so,” he answered as he looked down at the rushing creek. “Can I confide something, something that you may not want to know, but could be the answer you’re looking for?”
Furlough spoke so softly like someone may be eavesdropping.

  Colin looked up at Furlough and stared, not sure that he wanted to know, but too curious not to question it further, “What?”

  “Me, Harper, Doc, and Sloan have been moonlighting. When a special job arises, we have been taking advantage of it. Good pay usually, an in and out procedure, and a great feeling when the mission is successful.”

  Colin sat there listening to him without so much as a blink, not sure if he wanted to know anymore but to curious not to ask, “Mission?”

  Furlough continued, “Think of us as weekend mercenaries. Mainly in Mexico, a few in Afghanistan, and a couple in Iran so far, mostly kidnappings and ransoms. When someone is kidnapped and held for ransom, we may get a call and it grows from there. We retrieve the hostage and return them to their family.”

  Still silent Colin sat there amazed that he hadn’t heard this until now. “Why haven’t you guys said anything? How long have you been doing this?”

  “About three years now. Come on Colin, you know your nickname ‘The BBB’. We don’t call you that for nothing. By the Books Banks would never do this because it isn’t by the book! Although, we all know you would be better than any of us planning some of these rescues. Look, every time we return a hostage to their family we have a sense of accomplishment, a meaning. Not since our time in the service have we felt this way, at least not until we started to do this.”

  “Fur, if you guys get caught in those countries you know the President won’t stand behind you? You know that, right? This is some risky stuff you’re doing and I will have my hands tied!” Colin fumed as he stood up and started to kick ash and dirt on the fire to put it out.

  “What else are we trained for? We were trained to be the best of the best at survival and carrying out missions to a T. We have a specialized skill set that few people are privileged with. If we sat back and did nothing with it, well then, I would be second guessing my career like you are doing now.”

  “I use my skills every day at my job!”

  “Colin, do you? Do you really? Interviewing people in a controlled environment and chasing down leads to then only go back to a desk and fill out the proper paperwork to guarantee everything fits a check and balance system— come on. Where is your reward? After a lawyer wheels and deals, the jury is selected, hearings are had, and a judge hands out a sentence if you are lucky, maybe then you feel rewarded. That takes months or even years! We get in and out in minutes and justice is served. There is a lot to be said for both ways of handling it. But, when you look at the face of a father that thought he would never see his wife and son again, or a daughter that has been held captive by abusers for a ransom and so many more to mention, our way is the only way in these situations. Paperwork and diplomacy is crap and you know it. You’re not dealing with sane people. These people are the lowest of the low. There are no negotiations.”

  Colin knew everything he was saying made sense he just didn’t want to think about doing anything that would put his standing with the CCD in jeopardy. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. And, we never had this conversation.”

  “You know I am right. The offer is open, if you ever want to come on a mission with us, the invite is there. You can even sit in the van if you want, but until you try it, don’t judge us.” Furlough pressed his buddy as he picked up the bag of trash and headed to the chopper.

  “Look, I’m not questioning your motives. I think in my line of work, it isn’t possible for me to even consider something that can turn around and bite me the way this could. Thanks for asking but I am going to pass.” Colin answered unconvinced by Jase’s importune business offer. Banks started back towards the chopper reflecting on everything he had just heard.

  Furlough stopped his buddy and tried one more time to persuade him, “We have been contacted by an anonymous group calling themselves the ‘Providence Parliament’. They want us to bring them a person of interest. We are talking over a million-dollar payday and it looks like it will be an easy job. How about you come along with us one time?”

  Banks dropped his duffel bag and angrily walked away a few feet then turned to Furlough and asked a torrent of questions, “You really think that if they are offering a million bucks that it’s going to be an easy job? How do you know these guys are the good guys and not against the USA? And who’s to say that they will let you walk away? It sounds like the target is well aware that someone is coming or they wouldn’t be offering so much. How did this Providence Parliament hear of your little mercenary operation? You need more information if you guys are going to walk in to this. From what you told me this is bigger than any job you have done so far as a civilian. You would be stupid to take it at face value.”

  Furlough nodded in agreement at his old unit leader’s questions. Furlough knew Banks was right and he had realized he was blinded by the amount of dough that had been offered.

  Banks picked up his things, threw his backpack, and snowboard in the side door of the helicopter and slid the door shut with a rigid slam. He moved to the backseat and unzipped the duffel bag he had left in there yesterday and began changing his clothes.

  Furlough opened the small door on the passenger side of the chopper, sat down in the front and initiated a sequence of flipping toggle switches and pushing buttons. He slid the large headset on his ears and adjusted the mouthpiece so it sat right in front of his mouth. Colin joined him in the passenger seat and he too, placed a headset on. The loud humming of the engine and thumping whirling sound of the rotor blades made it next to impossible to continue their conversation even though neither of them would have spoken about it on the helicopter on the off chance it could be recorded.

  Beginning their rise to the blue sky neither spoke a word of the conversation they had on the ground. Moving swiftly above the tree line and hills Banks focused in on the ground below and followed the fold of the creek down the mountain. This was where he saw what would change the course of his life forever. At least, he thought he saw something?

  “Did I just see a man dump something off the back of a small ATV vehicle,” Colin mumbled as he grabbed the binoculars off a hanging hook under the dashboard. Jase watched Banks with curiosity. He had completely missed what was going on beneath them in the forest.

  Banks moved his fingers over the dials on the binoculars until he could see clearly and focuses in on the debris that the ATV left behind. It couldn’t be. He refocused the dials and studied the scene again— body parts.

  “What do you see, Banks?” Furlough asked loudly.

  “I’m not sure… It looks like body parts,” he answered confused.

  “What? Let me see those,” Jase took the binoculars and focused them in on the spot in question below, “It is… a body of sorts.”

  “Where did that ATV go?” Banks asked.

  “There! Over there!” Jase uneasily yelled out as he turned the helicopter in the direction of the fleeing ATV.

  Through the green furs and underbrush that layered the floor below them was a suspect that quite possibly just perpetrated a crime, a murder, a horrendous mutilating murder. Their sanctuary of the state park, the peace of the mountain, had been disrupted by a speeding ATV, one that was hell-bent on making a gruesome delivery, which would, if not for the helicopter been discovered for months.

  “I lost it!” Jase screamed.

  “Me, too!”

  “I’m calling it in,” Jase directed and began a radio call to the flight tower.

  Banks searched fervently for the missing ATV. His eyes crawling the tree line for anything that seemed to be out of place, something that didn’t belong, anything that may be moving. He could hear Jase make the radio call but his focus attentively placed on the solid ground below looking for the ATV.

  There, there in the distance, blending behind the wall of trees that sprung up from the dirt and reached high to the sky sat the camouflaged colored vehicle. In addition, standing next to it with a rifle of some sort was a tall man, long s
traggly hair, and a burly covered face. The man lifted the rifle up towards the helicopter and took aim before Banks could cry out one word of warning. A boom hit the underside of the chopper at which point Jase circled away from where Banks was pointing. Another boom rattled the small metal cage they were flying. Jase knew they had been hit at least twice and the aircraft wouldn’t recover from it. He was right.

  “Brace yourself, Colin!” Jase commanded. I’m going to try to place it on top of those tree tops over there,” before he could finish his sentence the plane turned sideways and leaned hard into a patch of emptiness below. No cushion from the impact, just the cold rigid earth that absorbed the shattering twisted wreckage.

  Chapter Eleven~

  Dripping water, the sound echoed against the blackness. Colin became conscious to shadowy silhouettes and something cold and hard beneath his stiff body. The shadows were barely visible and contrasted against the bleak light that seeped in from somewhere above. Where was he? He tried to cough and stretch out his body but it seemed tethered to something. Again, he thought, ‘Where am I?’

  Then as if the weight of the darkness pressed the oxygen from his lungs, he remembered the plane crash. He forced sound from his mouth, with his tongue dry, the word seemed almost lifeless, “Jase.”

  “Jase, are you ok?”

  Nothing, not even a sigh in the hollowness of where he was laying. He felt something dried to his face, a feeling he knew all too well, dried blood. Where and how was Jase? Moreover, why did Banks feel like he was tied up?