Getaway

“Speak.”

“Sir, we’re receiving reports from Madison county. The local sheriff and a couple of unknown outsiders have apparently uncovered our operations there. However, the local citizenry says that they have everything under control.”

Atlas scowled at the report. He didn’t care for underlings telling him his own business or for his agents blatantly risking exposure. “That’s all well and good, but get in contact with Liberator. I want him on the soon ASAP. We never know when things might get out of hand.”

“Yes, sir. I will get in contact with the commander immediately.”

“And start the emergency protocol. We’re moving up the program. I want everyone to be ready to go by tomorrow midnight.”

“But, sir—”

“No buts, agent. Get it done.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Atlas closed the phone as the blonde stirred behind him.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she said.

He pulled her back down to the bed and climber on top of her.

“Nothing,” he said as he entered her. “Nothing at all.”

*****

Freedom’s hands slipped to the twin guns beneath his trench coat as the mob continued to advance on them from both sides. Tilby held his own pistol on the police chief. Several members of Tudor’s citizenry held their own weapons trained on them both.

“Don’t go doing something stupid, Chuck,” Tilby said. “I’m not in the mood for any tomfoolery.”

“Nobody’s fooling with you, Ed. I don’t know who your friends here are, but we’re sick of folks like you sticking their damn noses in our business.

Freedom leaned towards Iniri. “Get in the car,” he said. “When the time comes, we’re going to need to make our get away fast. You with me?”

Iniri looked nervous, but nodded. She slowly slid towards the passenger side door.

“I’m trying to solve a murder, Chuck,” Tilby said. “A murder that happened outside your city limits and in my jurisdiction. What’s this damn posse all about?”

“You’re a damn fool, Sheriff. We’re here to kill you, the hippie, and your nigger girlfriend. It’s that simple.” He raised his shotgun and trained it on Tilby’s chest.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Chuck.” Tilby’s gun went off with a sharp bang. The chief’s head exploded in to a red mist. Tilby started moving before he even saw the shot hit. By the time the populace realized what had happened, Tilby was down between Iniri’s car and his own cruiser. The townsfolk raised their own rifles to fire.

Freedom yanked his .45’s free of their holsters. It took him less than a second to open fire on both directions. The crowds scattered in an attempt to avoid their police chief’s fate.

“In to the car, Tilby,” Freedom said. “We need to move before they realize they can beat us with sheer numbers.” A round flew past Freedom’s head and shattered one of Tilby’s police lights.

“Goddamn it, Patton,” Tilby said as he yanked the passenger side door open and scrambled in to the car. “This is your damn fault!”

“Get moving, Iniri!” She turned the key at Freedom’s command. As the engine revved to live, Freedom jumped on to the truck. Iniri glanced back at him as he continued to fire.

A bullet struck Freedom in the right shoulder. He cried out as pain shot down his arm. “Move the fucking car, Iniri!”

The car shot back out of the parking lot. Freedom scrambled for a handhold. He wrapped his hands around the luggage rack. The car’s movement wrenched his wounded arm and Freedom screamed in pain. He fought it away as best as he can. He fired his last few rounds backs at the mob before focusing his attention on staying put on the trunk. Iniri gunned the engines as she turned down the street. The posse scattered as the car charged towards them. By the time anyone could bring their weapons back to the ready, the vehicle was past.

Just outside the city limits, Iniri pulled over. Freedom rolled off the back of the vehicle as if his last strength was gone. Tilby helped him in to the backseat. As he hit the seat, Freedom groaned and fell unconscious.

*****

Liberator arrived in a downtown Tudor that looked like a war zone. Ambulances from every nearby community lined the streets. Paramedics tended to a dozen gunshot wounds. Meanwhile, the local sheriff’s deputy awaited the arrival of an FBI agent from Des Moines. The jurisdiction on a crime against a police officer by a county sheriff seemed hazy at best.

Mask off, Liberator walked past all of the circus. The mayor’s eyes went wide as he approached. Good, Liberator thought, he recognizes me. That would make things easier.

“Where are they?” he said.

Perspiration instantly formed on the brow of Mayor Williams. “I . . . I don’t—”

Liberator raised his eyes to the sky and grimaced. He grabbed Williams by the collar and lifted him in to the air. “You let them get away, didn’t you?”

“It’s not my fault! Chuck, the police chief, he said he’d handle it. But the Sheriff put a damn bullet in to his head. Who could have known he would do that?”

“Someone who was ready for anything?” Liberator threw Williams to the ground several yards away. “Any of you gasbags have a clue where they were going?”

The other men shuffled their feet and avoid eye contact with him. One boy, no older that fifteen, stepped up to speak. “They were heading towards the interstate, sir.”

“So what you are telling me is that they could be anywhere by now?”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Liberator turned away and stomped back to his SUV. He opened his cel phone and hit the auto dial.

Atlas wasn’t going to like this at all.

*****

Tilby could tell from the Indian girl’s panicked expression that she was out of her league here.

“Just get us to heading north on the interstate. We need to get to Des Moines.” He paused and looked back at Freedom. The young fool was still unconscious. Turning back to the girl, he smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Iniri,” she said with some trepidation.

“Well, two years of investigation just blew up in my face, Iniri, thanks to you and your friend. It’s bad, but it’s not the end of the world. We just need to get to Des Moines and I can fix us up with some help.”

“How?”

Tilby sighed. “I wasn’t quite truthful with your friend Patton back there. I’m not just a county sheriff.”

“What?” she said. “What are you talking about?”

“I work for a covert US military organization, The Agency for Counter-Terrorism: Infiltration, Observation, and Negation.”

“You work for Codename: Action?”

“Director Blake is retired, but yes, I work for ACTION.”

Iniri released a deep, calming breath. “Why is this happening? Why the hell does a government agent have to infiltrate a podunk little town in the middle of nowhere? It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“I’m investigating a subversive domestic terrorist group known as America’s World. We believe they plan to attack somewhere in this state. Several agents have been place throughout the state to investigate, but as far as I know, I am the first to hit the jackpot.

“Unfortunately, the exit strategy didn’t work out so well.”

Iniri glared at him. “That’s an understatement.”

He nodded. “But now I have proof of their existence. Now we need to make it to the city, connect with control by any means necessary, and, well. . .”

“Well what?”

“They know us now,” Tilby said. “Me at least. This organization isn’t just going to let us go free to meddle in their plans. My guess is they will try to turn the police against us first, but I’m guessing they are already tracking us on their own.”

“How?”

“GPS most likely. My point is that we know they want us. And that’s a good thing for ACTION.”

“How are hundreds of people gunning for us a good thing?”

“Because the best way to draw out a conceited madman and his organization is to make them think they are winning.”

Iniri shook her head in disgust. “And you’re the sane one in all of this?”

Tilby unholstered his Desert Eagle and a handkerchief and began to clean the weapon. “You better home I am, honey. I’m the only thing keeping you alive.”