Judgment at Alcatraz by Dave Edlund (carter reed .txt) 📕

“What’s wrong?” She faced Leonard. “Worried you’re going to be in trouble with whoever financed your operation?”

“You should be more concerned with your own safety, and less concerned about my business.”

“If you ask me, I’d guess millions were invested in your little operation. Whoever put up that money probably expected positive results. I think you’re going to have to tell your benefactor that you were outsmarted and outgunned by a woman. Don’t imagine that’ll go over so well, do you?”

Leonard produced a switchblade and flicked open the cutting edge. He leaned across the gap and pressed the blade against Toby’s thigh.

“I can slice your femoral artery faster than you can blink those pretty eyelashes. Wanna see?”

Flynn said, “It’s okay. Just take it easy. We’re not going to cause any problems.”

“Yeah? Well, you should coach her to keep her mouth shut.” Leonard leaned back in his seat and folded the blade back into the handle.

Toby smiled, happy she’d been able to goad him. Then she turned her gaze back to the side window.

Chapter 27

Northern California

May 22

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Danya turned on her headlights, still mindful to avoid any traffic violations which might attract unwanted attention from the CHP. An hour ago, she’d gassed up at Fairfield before pressing eastward along Interstate 80.

She was sipping cold coffee from a paper cup. On the seat was a half-eaten bag of chili corn chips and some beef jerky. Referring to the GPS app on her phone, she still had a long way to drive. At least on the California interstate, moving with the traffic, she would make good time. Still, it would be early morning when she arrived at her destination. Based on bits and pieces of information Toby had shared from her conversations with Sacheen and Leonard, Danya formulated a hunch as to where Sacheen had fled with her boyfriend and two hostages.

As darkness set in, boredom and fatigue would soon become a challenge, made all the worse by lights from oncoming cars. She settled the radio channel on a particularly obnoxious talk show. Whenever she found her eyelids getting heavy and her concentration waning, she’d grab a of stick of jerky and spend the next ten minutes grinding pieces between her teeth.

The traffic was steady up the western slope of the Sierra Nevada, and not until she’d passed through Reno did it begin to thin. As the highway snaked east into the Nevada desert, population centers were smaller and fewer. And the speed limit was faster. A little over three hours after leaving Reno, she was entering Elko.

With sunrise still hours away, she exited onto the Mountain City Highway, more officially known as State Route 225. Her destination was Owyhee, but first she needed some sleep. She’d been going hard for almost twenty-four hours, and the long drive, combined with monotony, made pressing onward reckless.

She pulled into a small rest area and parked as far away from the restroom as possible. Knowing that remote rest areas often attracted criminal behavior, she placed her SIG Sauer pistol between her back and the seat, and shut her eyes. Soon, she was fast asleep.

s

After turning east over the Pacific, Sacheen chose to cross over land just south of Brookings, Oregon. Once she cleared the coast range, skimming the rough terrain, she climbed to ten thousand feet. With the transponder still off, it was unlikely any air traffic control would pick her up. Even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to identify the flight.

The Malibu Mirage streaked across the desert sky. She navigated by the in-dash GPS system, flying a direct route to Owyhee in northern Nevada. At a hundred miles out, she transmitted a message to one of their accomplices, a young woman with the passion of an activist. Even though it was the middle of the night, she had been instructed to have the VHF radio on. In fact, it was to be on at all times in case of emergency transmissions.

“This is Sacheen calling for Anna Banks. Over.”

Only static.

“This is Sacheen Crow Dog calling for Anna Banks.”

Nothing.

She waited a minute, closing the distance and giving Anna time to rise if she’d been asleep. Sacheen glanced at the time—12:41 a.m. Yeah, she must be sleeping.

Anna was in her mid-twenties. She was both African American and Native American, and was decidedly attractive. The young woman had a keen mind, which she applied to her work as an IT consultant. Her job seldom required she leave her home. She usually worked from an office-converted bedroom, the only interface to her clients being conference calls and emails. Although it seemed she lived a lonely existence, it worked for her.

Sacheen capitalized on the young woman’s self-doubt and insecurity. She found it easy to befriend Anna, initially sharing conversation over coffee or lunch, and later extending the show of friendship by inviting Anna to Leonard’s house for dinner, and then streaming a movie. It was never a sexual relationship. But Sacheen and Leonard manipulated her emotions, nonetheless, and over the course of months, recruited her to support the movement.

“Sacheen calling Anna. Over.”

She was about to key the mic again, when a groggy voice replied to her hailing.

“This is Anna. Receiving you clearly. What’s going on? It’s the middle of the frigging night.”

“Anna, I’m flying in tonight, and I’m just under a hundred miles out. I’ll be landing in a half-hour, and I need you to turn on the runway lights.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m dead serious, Anna. You must turn on the lights. I can’t see the runway and make the approach if the lights are out.”

She thought she heard a stifled yawn over the speaker.

“Okay,” Anna replied. “Give me five minutes to get dressed. Then another twenty minutes to the runway.”

“Thank you, Anna. You’re the best friend anyone could have.”

“Yeah, sure. But you owe me.”

The Mirage flew on in silence. Toby and Flynn appeared to be asleep. But not Leonard. He was alert and