Rick Mofina - If Angels Fall

Navigating by moonlight with the running lights off,Keller inched the boat safely around the Point Reyes Lighthouse, Overlook,Chimney Rock, and along some twelve miles of shore to this hidden cove nearDrakes Estero, where he had taken sanctuary for the night, anchored andtethered to the nook’s jagged rocks. Bitter, cold winds fingered into the cove,knocking the boat against the rocks. Keller did not risk a fire. Again, hesedated the children, leaving them to sleep aboard under blankets and tarps. Hecloaked the entire craft with camouflage netting. Keller did not sleep. Hehuddled nearby under a blanket, as the wind rocked the boat, reading Scriptureby penlight, keeping a vigil, counting down the hours, talking with God.

Now, afternoon had come. He could hear the childrenunder the blankets, waking groggily. Keller could not stand it any longer. Itwas time. For twenty years he had waited, suffered, repented, and prepared forthis day, this day of celestial glory and light.

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus. Dominus Deus sabaoth.

Keller checked his watch. From their location, itwould take over an hour to reach the islands at the right moment. He hadmemorized the charts. Everything he needed was in the boat. He was ready. Whywas he waiting? It was time. But as he moved to the boat, his adrenaline-driveneuphoria had given way to exhaustion, fear.

It should have been you, you bastard!

Accept that you cannot change reality. You mustforgive yourself and move on.

The children are innocents.

The entire world knows your pain. Do not extend itto others who never harmed you.

Whoever committed this desecration shall be damnedall the days of his life!

It’s time, Edward. Your children are waiting.

Are you doubting Divine Will?

I am the resurrection and the life.

Your children are waiting.

Through his tears, Keller saw his son Pierce.

“Why are you doing this?”

Keller was in the boat, holding his hand, his smallwarm hand.

Pierce was alive! Here, talking to him.

The resurrection and the life.

“Please, don’t hurt us.”

Oh Pierce. Keller stretched out his hand, caressed theboy’s shivering head, his young hair. Enraptured, Keller wept, his heart risingand falling with the boat … the black waves rolling. His children screaming: Joshua, Alisha, Pierce. Like lambs in the night. The cold darkness swallowingthem, devouring them.

Joan’s body twisting in the attic.

Keller squeezed the child’s hand and scanned the cove.

Something humming, growling in the air. A search plane,far off, over the sea near the horizon.

Satan would challenge him to the end.

“You won’t win this time! It is destined,” Kellershouted at the sky. He glared at Zach. “Get back under the tarp! Now!”

Keller raced to the console, started the twin Mercuryengines, pulled a machete from under the seat, and sliced the tether lines. Thecoastal waters were heavy with afternoon traffic, pleasure crafts, charters,fishing boats, and commercial ships. He raked the back of his hand over hisparched lips.

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus. Dominus Deus sabaoth.

Easing the throttle forward, Keller set off for theislands.

The spires of the Bay Bridge, then the Golden Gate, passed below the FBI’s Huey helicopterafter it lifted off from Hamilton Navy Air Force base in Alameda near Oakland.It headed west over the Pacific.

Mid-afternoon. Visibility, excellent.

Langford Shaw, the San Francisco FBI’s SWAT teamleader felt the tension aboard. He glanced from his notes to his men, whilelistening over his headset to the play-by-play of the bureau, the Coast Guard,the Navy, and the task force in Wintergreen. It was a massive rescue operationand he was in charge.

Four years to retirement and fate drops this ball-breakingfucker in your lap. A fuckup here and you were done. Well, he was a veteranagent of many wars and he’d be damned if he would allow that to happen. Shaw’sface betrayed nothing, although his gut hardened when he got the call toactivate: the kidnapping case again. The FBI’s elite Hostage Rescue Team was enroute on a Lear from Quantico, but they were hours away. Until then, it was allon Shaw’s shoulders and those of his team.

Intelligence put Keller in a twenty-one-foot,twin-engine open craft with three child hostages somewhere in the Gulf of theFarallons, between Point Reyes and the islands. Each SWAT member was handedphotos of Keller, his boat, the children. The top theory said Keller would killthem at sea between four and six P.M., if he hadn’t already done so. What theyhad here was a life-and-death hot pursuit and Shaw expected to execute thefinal option.

The Coast Guard’s C-130 Hercules out of Sacramento andtwo Twin Otter auxiliaries were flying track crawl search patterns over thearea. The guard also had its HH-65 chopper with the rescue hoist and diversscouring the islands. The Point Brower , a 110-foot cutter, armed with athree-millimeter cannon, had long since put out from Yerba Buena, making forthe islands at twenty-five knots. Two high-speed, aluminum, diesel-powered“ loaders” were searching the region. A second cutter, the Point Olivo ,was coming down from Bodega Bay. The guard offered to scramble two Falcon jetsfrom L.A. Shaw accepted. He then requested a U.S. Navy chopper pick up fouradditional SWAT team members at Hamilton, drop them at sea on the PointBrower . That would give him two sniper teams at sea level and another angleon the target, should they find him.

Shaw’s bird was the command post where everything wasbeing coordinated. Once more, he checked assignments, setting up the Huey’ssniper points. “Mitch, you’ll take starboard, and Ronnie, you set up on aft fora clear shot.” Shaw indicated Fred Wheeler, the negotiator, on the satellitephone to Professor Kate Martin, learning about Keller’s background and stresspoints. “Fred will try to talk him out of it, if he gets the chance. The restof you are assault, depending on how we unwrap this one.” Shaw switched fromthe chopper’s intercom to his team radio. “Roy, Doc! Call when you put down onthe cutter.”

As they passed over San Francisco’s shoreline, Shawwas called from the FBI’s office on Golden Gate Avenue with word that anotherbureau Huey, just in from L.A. on a maintenance run, was empty and available.Good, he wanted two more sniper teams picked up for a third angle. And he hadanother idea. “After getting my guys at Hamilton, pick up some task forcemembers on the house at Wintergreen. We could use them up here. Put a rush onit.”

FBI Agent Merle Rust took the relay call from Shaw tothe mobile command center at Keller’s house in Wintergreen, then requested theSFPD clear the park a block west of the house for a helicopter landing.

“Walt,” Rust told Sydowski, “they want us in the airas observers. A chopper will be here in fifteen minutes. You and me.”

“They spot anything out there yet?” Sydowski followed Rustout of the bus after they informed the others.

“No.” Rust shielded his eyes. “Chopper’s landing inthe park west of here.”

Tom Reed appeared before Rust and Sydowski, lookinglike hell.

“Take me with you.”

“What? How did you-?” Sydowski said.

“I was coming to the bus and I overheard. I want togo.”

“Impossible, Tom. I’m sorry,” Rust said. “It’s againstpolicy.”

“I have to know.” He was determined.

“Tom” — Sydowski softened his voice — “stay herewith Ann. She needs you. You can help the others. You should be together.”

“Ann overheard you, too. She wants me to go. We haveto know. Whatever happens. I have to know.”