FanStory.com - Spirited Justice Chap 18by Begin Again

The sliding glass doors of the hospital lobby opened as Garth and his sidekicks entered. The lanky cowboy cut a striking figure with his signature Stetson and boots. The trio moved with a purpose that attracted curious glances from the locals, who mostly wore bib overalls or neon construction jackets. Their presence created a ripple of interest among the women, who couldn't help but smile as the elevator doors closed.

The elevator dings open, revealing the ICU floor. Garth, followed by Tango and Poppa, stepped out, immediately spotting a security guard at the end of the hallway. The guard's uniform and demeanor screamed "rent-a-cop."

Tango muttered, "That warden's a joke, boss. This is what he sends as security."

Garth approached the nurses' station. "I'm looking for Thomas Whitaker's room. I was told he was in ICU."

Glancing up from her paperwork, an uninterested nurse answered, "That's correct. He's in surgery now. I can't give you much information, but the officer on duty can help you."

Garth nodded and turned to give his men orders. "Secure the area, Tango. Get a detail over here." As he surveyed all the exit signs on the floor, he added, "You'll need one at every door."

Overhearing Garth's orders, the nurse rounded the desk and approached them. "This is a secured area, gentlemen. No one is allowed except during specific hours. I'm sorry, but —"

Garth cut her off with a confident flash of his badge and a charming smile. "We're with the FBI. I'm Special Agent Garth Woodman. Didn't mean to cause a ruckus, ma'am, but I believe the prison transported an inmate here with a critical stab wound."

The nurse nodded and glanced down the hallway. "Happens all the time, except it was odd that the prison ordered a security guard to stand outside his door. Must be one bad-ass criminal."

"Well, I'm not sure of that, but I know the FBI is interested in keeping him alive."

"Of course," the woman stammered, not accustomed to anyone ever caring about the inmates. "Mr. Whitaker is in surgery."

"That's good." Garth looked around the floor, evaluating the ways to reach their target if anyone was to finish off Whitaker. "We'll be securing your floor, ma'am."

The nurse, visibly flustered by Garth's commanding presence, struggled to find her words. "I'll have to notify —"

"You notify whomever you want. Just tell them that the FBI is in charge now, and no one is to enter Whitaker's room without being cleared by one of our men."

"You can't —"

Garth tipped his cowboy hat to the nurse. "I can, and I already did." Smiling, he added, "You have a nice day, ma'am." His tone left no room for argument.

*****

The study was sweltering under the intense Mexican sun, its heat pouring through the tall windows and casting harsh, glaring light into the room. Carlos, drenched in sweat, paced behind his massive mahogany desk. His shirt clung to his back, and sweat dripped down his forehead. He took occasional drags from a thick cigar, its smoke mingling with the air in a hazy cloud.

The rotary phone on his desk sat in the center of the room, a stark black object against the chaos of paperwork and scattered notes.

Carlos wiped the sweat from his brow as he stared at the phone. "Come on, Angelo, where are you?"

He leaned against the massive fireplace mantel, cursing the world in general. The sharp ring of the phone startled him.

His head snapped up, his face glistening with sweat, as he moved to answer the phone. His hand trembled slightly, and his voice was strained. "Angelo, do you have my son?"

There was brief static before a voice on the other end responded. "Carlos, it's Manuel. It's been a long time."

Recognizing the voice of someone indebted to the Hernandez family for a long time, Carlos was curious about the call but wanted to keep the line free for Angelo to call.

Impatiently, he answered, "We must talk later, Manuel. I am busy."

Manuel lowered his voice as he checked his surroundings, "I know who has your son. They are planning to kill him."

Carlos slumps against his desk, yelling, "Madre de Dios! Â¡Esto no puede estar pasando con mi hijo!" He gasped for air and asked, "How do you know this?"

"Two big-shot Americano businessmen had dinner with Arturo at his restaurant, the Las Gringo. I was bartending and happened to hear Jose's name mentioned. The waitress is my niece, a very clever girl. She heard one man say money was no object if Jose disappeared."

Carlos's face hardened. The oppressive heat intensified as he leaned forward, the cigar's ember glowing brightly against his flushed face.

"You are sure they are the ones who have Jose?"

"Si — Arturo had me rent a car for them under a false name. I called them to tell them where to pick it up."

"Give me the phone number. I will take it from here, Manuel." Carlos's brain was already calculating the demise of these men, but first, he had to reach Angelo. After he wrote down the number, Carlos thanked Manuel. "Mucho gracious! Consider your debt paid in full. And after Jose is home safe, I will thank you with a substantial gift."

"Not necessary, my friend. I am grateful I could repay my debt."

Carlos added a quick goodbye. "Chao!" His voice conveyed relief, knowing his son was one step closer to being rescued.

The call disconnected, leaving him alone in the stifling heat, his mind racing to devise a plan.

*****

Knowing his American connections ran deep and strong, he dialed a number. Without wasting time, the voice on the other end assured Carlos they had a plan. Satisfied that his son would be rescued, he hung up the phone.

*****

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Angelo, the driver of the car he was tailing got a strange order from someone. The man on the other end of the phone kept it short. "Go through the car wash on Fifth and Hanover."

"The car wash? Have you guys lost your minds?"

"Just do what you're told. You need to lose this tail."

"Okay, but it doesn't make much sense."

"Trust me. It's going to be a big surprise."

The driver disconnected the call and shook his head. "We're supposed to go through a car wash at Fifth and Hanover."

"What the heck! In the middle of a job?"

"That's what he said. It's about fifteen minutes from here."

"Has the boss had one too many shots of tequila?"

"Maybe, but I just do what I'm told. The money's the same."

"So, the car wash it is." The passenger looked in the back seat at an unconscious Jose. "I don't think it matters to him. By the looks of him, we might not have to worry about shooting him. He'll already be dead."

The two men laughed, and the driver turned left, heading for Fifth and Hanover.

*****

Ten minutes later, the phone rang, and Carlos answered, expecting it to be Angelo this time. "Hello."

"It's me."

"Do you have Jose?"

"No, I'm still tailing these guys. They might suspect something because they've been doubling back and taking side streets for quite a while."

"Just keep tailing them, Angelo. I've made some calls, and things will soon be in place. Regardless of where they go, don't lose them. Understood?"

"Man, these guys are crazy!" Angelo couldn't control his surprise or disbelief.

Carlos's voice was calm. "What's wrong? Is something happening?"

"You're not going to believe this, but they're going through a car wash."

Carlos was glad Angelo could not see his smile. "A car wash? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. They are entering it right now. Listen, Carlos, I'm going to let you go so I can find a spot on the other side to follow them when they come out."

"Sounds great, Angelo. Keep that car in sight."

Angelo watched until the car disappeared inside the car wash, and then he parked by the exit, where he knew they'd have to pass him to get out.

A closed sign appeared on the front of the car wash.

******

The vehicle carrying Jose rolled into the car wash, the thick brushes spinning in preparation. Water cascaded over the car, muffling sounds from the outside. The soap began to foam over the windshield, obscuring their view.

Once the car was engulfed in darkness, the two thugs sat quietly, unaware of what was about to happen. The brushes thudded against the vehicle, masking the sounds of the car doors being yanked open.

In an instant, two men swiftly and silently executed the thugs. A silent shot hit the driver in the chest, causing him to slump forward over the wheel. The passenger barely had time to react before a bullet pierced his skull, sending him sideways against the door.

Two other men dressed in black lifted an unconscious Jose from the back seat and carried him to the car directly behind the first one. After moving the dead driver to the back seat, the new driver climbed behind the steering wheel, propping the passenger up against the door, and in less than three minutes, the car lurched forward and finished the car wash.

Outside, Angelo kept his eyes locked on the car wash as the vehicle exited and the driver slowly drove past. Oblivious to what had taken place, he followed closely behind.

Meanwhile, the car carrying Jose exited the car wash, slipping away unnoticed. The rescue had been successful, and Jose was now in the safe hands of men who would get him to a secure location.

*****

After traveling a few miles, the decoy car circled two barricades and pulled into a motel. The sign said it was closed for remodeling, so Angelo maneuvered his vehicle between two construction vehicles and a row of bushes.

He watched as the driver exited the car and headed inside one of the rooms. As he prepared to leave his car and move closer for a better look, the passenger door of his car opened, and a man with a handle-bar mustache slid into the seat. Catching Angelo off guard, the man shoved a gun into the private investigator's side. "Don't do anything stupid because I've been known to have an itchy finger."

"Who the hell are you?"

The man pressed the barrel of his gun against Angelo and snarled, "Shut up and listen."

Angelo, not one to be intimidated, pushed his luck and growled, "I don't know who you are, but I do know that Jose Hernandez is in the back seat of that car. Killing me is one thing, but killing him is a death sentence."

Without hesitation, the man smashed the butt of his gun into the side of Angelo's head. As he reeled from the hit, the stranger leaned in close, his voice a dangerous whisper, "I told you to shut up and listen. The men you were following are dead. Jose is safe, on his father's jet, flying home right now." His words were cold and factual, with no trace of emotion.

Dazed, Angelo mumbled, "I don't understand."

He interrupted him again, "Carlos doesn't like cleaning up messes. Don't make another one."

He exited the car as abruptly as he entered, leaving Angelo with a pounding head and the realization that he had been kept in the dark concerning Jose's rescue.

An SUV pulled into the parking lot with its lights off. The man inside the room exited and climbed into the vehicle. With blood trickling down his face, Angelo watched the SUV's taillights disappear down the road before he started his car and left.

Translation for : "Madre de Dios! Â¡Esto no puede estar pasando con mi hijo!"
Mother of God! This can't be happening to my son.