Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Greed

Decker didn’t hesitate. The door closed behind him.

Nick furiously scoured his phone’s contact list before hitting a button. Two rings later a man’s voice answered.

“Gerry?” Nick said, loud and hurried. “They leave yet? We’ve got a hostage situation.”

“Nick? Yeah, they’re already in the air.”

“Patch me through to the pilot,” Nick blurted.

“Sure, hold on.”

Nick heard a sequence of keypads being tapped, then he heard static, followed by the roar of an engine and the piercing drone of helicopter blades cutting through the air.

“Hello?” Nick said.

The static persisted. Stevie was sitting behind the desk and pointing to the screen. Nick recognized the image. It was downtown Payson.

“South,” Nick said. “South and east. Look for a white truck with a large dent on the front hood.”

Nick couldn’t keep his eyes from the computer monitor, desperately searching for something. Stevie Gilpin had the most advanced knowledge of the FBI’s satellite images and how to get where he wanted.

“What’s up, Gerry?” came Dan Wells voice over the cacophony of engine and rotors.

“This is Nick Bracco,” he yelled into the phone. “Dan, we have a hostage situation. How far are you from Payson?”

“Less than five minutes,” Dan said. “Where’s the hostage?”

“In a white Ford pickup with a dented hood.” Nick spoke fast and loud. “It’s my wife and kid.”

Nick heard the helicopter’s engines rev up. “I’ll be there in one minute,” Dan said. “Where are they?”

Nick pointed at the computer monitor for Stevie to maneuver the cursor further east. “They’re close to my place, Dan. I’m scanning the area from the satellite. They can’t be far.”

Nick’s heart pounded as he scoured the streets for the white pickup. Every time they’d spot one, Stevie would zoom in and come up empty. There was so much fury built up, Nick’s vision was blurring. He couldn’t focus properly. A thought ran through his mind about the pills he’d forgotten to take that morning.

“What’s this?” Stevie said, hovering the cursor over a small cloud of dirt which seemed to be moving south.

“Zoom in,” Nick said.

As Stevie closed in, the screen became temporarily distorted. When the image cleared up a white pickup truck came into view.

“Closer,” Nick urged.

Stevie tapped the keypad and the screen became distorted, then returned with a crystal clear picture. The image caused Stevie to let out a small gasp. The truck was speeding down a graded dirt road, bouncing and jostling enough to toss debris from the bed of the vehicle. Sitting among the landscaping machinery, up against the cab, was Julie and Thomas. Julie was gripping Thomas to her chest, while a man sat next to her with a pistol trained on her head.

“I’ve got them, Dan,” Nick shouted. “I’m using our satellite image. They’re on a dirt road east of town, heading due south.”

“I’m going up to get a better view,” Dan said.

Nick heard the helicopter’s rotors whirl softer as the chopper lifted away from the ground diminishing the echoes. The truck was in a clearing but would get to the tree line within the next mile or two.

Julie seemed frightened, but she was no amateur hostage. She’d been an FBI agent wife for fifteen years and knew to search for ways out. She wasn’t going to go easily. It was probably why they threw her in the bed. The driver was the only one visible in the cab.

“Got ’em,” Dan said.

Nick felt a rush of anxiety. He was grateful to see his family still alive, but knew these gunmen would not give up and he forced himself to stay focused.

“Listen, Dan,” Nick said. “These are drug-running experts. They’ve been chased by choppers before. They know where to shoot. Keep your tail away from them.”

“Roger that,” Dan said.

By the reaction of the gunman in the back of the truck, the helicopter must’ve come into their view. The gunman in the bed of the truck pulled Julie into a choke hold and held the muzzle of the gun to her head. A threat to back off.

“Dan, who’s with you?” Nick asked.

“Parker and Jenson.”

“Have them put on their headsets.”

“You got it.”

Nick thought it through. Both men were adroit sharpshooters. Julie was alive because the gunmen needed her for protection, but the sun was setting fast. Once they had the cover of darkness they’d ditch the truck and go it on foot. In that terrain, they had a solid chance of escaping. He needed to give them hope. He needed them in that truck as long as possible.

“Okay, Dan, get out of there,” Nick said. “Move west. Stay low to the ground, just over the treetops.”

The helicopter’s engine whined again, changing speed and direction.

“We can’t afford to lose them, Nick,” Dan said. “It’s pretty dark up here.”

“I know,” Nick said. “When you’re out of viewing distance I want you to double back, go even further south. The road they’re taking makes a sharp turn to the east into the trees. I’ll guide you there.”

“Back it up more,” Nick said to Stevie. They watched the helicopter move away from the truck. “Stay with the chopper.”

Stevie’s fingers glided over the keypad with the agility of a stenographer.

Nick pointed to the screen. “There,” he said. “Mark that spot.”

A red X popped onto the screen right next to the road, ahead of the speeding truck.

“Dan,” Nick said. “You’re too far east. Head northwest from your location.”

“What are we doing?” Dan asked.

“You’re going to drop off Jenson and Parker on that dirt road ahead of the truck. Have them roll a spike strip on the path. Then have them ready to make a nest up in the trees ten yards apart. When the truck hits those spikes, I want Parker to take a shot at the gunman in the truck bed. Then have Jenson take out the driver.”

There was a pause on the line while Nick and Stevie watched the helicopter follow a northwestern flight path.

“Nick,” Dan said. “That’s pretty risky for the hostages.”

Nick understood the behavior of terrorists; once those gunmen realized the hostages were simply cargo-they were dead. They could see the truck in the distance, flying over potholes, a trail of leaves floating in its wake. Nick’s chest tightened. “Dan, they killed Jennifer Steele. I trust Greg to take the shot.”

There was another long pause, until Greg Parker’s voice came over the phone. “I’ll get him, Nick.”

Of course it wasn’t the gunman Nick was worried about taking a bullet and Parker knew that. The helicopter was following the dirt path now, low to the ground, approaching the red X.

“Slow down, Dan,” Nick said. A moment later, he announced, “Right there. Drop them off right there.”

The chopper hovered for a moment while the two men scrambled out and rolled a spike strip across the narrow dirt path. The helicopter’s nose came down and moved along the road directly at the truck which was coming around a corner a hundred yards away.

Nick knew what the pilot was doing; he was attempting to distract the driver so he wouldn’t spot the snipers waiting for them.

“Don’t get cute, Dan,” Nick ordered. “You’ve got their attention, now get up high and out of range.”

A pool of sweat gathered around Nick’s ear where the phone had been fastened. He switched ears and wiped the damp one with his shoulder.

Stevie and Nick watched the truck take the final turn too fast. They watched it almost tip over, coming up on two wheels before recovering and slamming back down on all four. The sweat continued to drip down the side of Nick’s face as the vehicle approached the spike strip lying across the road.