Andrew Peterson: Forced to Kill

“No problem.”

“I’ll land at the polo fields at Via de la Valle. It’s pitch-black out there.”

“I’ll be waiting. Do we need any special equipment?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll throw a duffel bag together with some basics. See you in forty minutes.”

Nathan made a flawless approach to the polo fields. The Bell 407 helicopter made a boatload of noise, but he wasn’t worried about getting cited. No one on the bluff would be able to read his tail numbers, even with field glasses. Besides, what real harm was he doing to anyone? Were ninety seconds of helicopter noise really such a monumental crime to the neighborhood?

He set the ship down and reduced the throttle. Harv materialized out of the blackness with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. No matter how many times he saw his friend, Nathan marveled at the man’s ease of movement, especially when running. Had it not been for his size, topping six feet by a good inch, Harv could’ve been a gymnast. He and Nathan were the same age and they both kept themselves in top physical shape.

He felt the helicopter shudder slightly as Harv tossed the duffel into the luggage compartment. Fifteen seconds later, he applied power. When the helicopter became light on the skids he executed a maximum performance takeoff. At 200 AGL he flipped on the navs and beacon and flew west toward I-5.

Harv secured his helmet and plugged in the audio jack.

Nathan continued to climb and turned north, paralleling the freeway. He made sure to stay well right of the centerline. The airspace above freeways served as helicopter flight routes.

Harv folded his aeronautical chart into a twelve-inch square and clipped it to his right kneeboard. “We’ll have to use the twenty-four-hour self-serve pumps at Fresno.”

“I know where they are.”

A comfortable silence expanded between them for a time.

“I’ve been thinking about Holly’s call,” Harv said at last.

“Me too. I don’t like it. I wish she’d given me, I don’t know… something.”

“Whatever it is, it’s got to be important. It could have something to do with your father’s Senate committee.”

“Yeah, I thought about that, but she would’ve told me.”

“I’m glad you’re back on speaking terms with him. He running for another term?”

“What’s six more years to a career politician?”

“Are you okay with it?”

“And if I’m not?”

Harv didn’t respond.

Nathan dialed Palomar Field’s frequencies into the NavCom-they’d be entering Palomar’s airspace in a few minutes and were required to make contact.

“How’ve you been sleeping?” Harv asked.

“Not great.”

“Holly?”

“She deserves a commitment.”

“I think it’s safe to say she’s not looking for that.”

“It just feels like I’m preventing her from finding someone else.”

“If she felt that way, she’d tell you.”

Nathan scanned the sky, looking for aircraft beacons.

“Don’t worry,” Harv said. “I’m sure she’s not calling it off.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Holly heard the helicopter before she saw it. 2:25 am. Nathan had called it pretty close. Its rotor noise careened off the surrounding hangars as the ship passed directly over her sedan and settled onto the tarmac a hundred yards distant. It took them several minutes to complete the engine shutdown. After the main rotor stopped, they climbed out, removed their flight helmets, and stretched. She watched Nathan give the helicopter a pat on the fuselage before starting over. Using her cane, she limped toward them. A pang of guilt raked her for asking him to drop everything and fly up here, but it had to happen this way. Still, as Nathan approached, everything she’d planned to say suddenly felt wrong.

“Hi, Holly.”

She started forward, but stopped.

“Well,” Harvey said, taking her cane, “don’t just stand there, hug each other.”

They did, for a long moment. When she let go, Nathan asked, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I’ll show you.”

They followed her to the sedan. Nathan climbed into the passenger’s seat while Harvey slid into the back. She turned on the dome light and removed a manila envelope from her briefcase.

She hesitated. “Nathan, I don’t… I guess I don’t know how to do this any other way. I’m sorry.” She pulled an 8x10 photograph from the envelope and held it under the light.

Harvey leaned forward to see. “Son of a bitch! Where the hell did you get that?”

Nathan didn’t move. He looked frozen-paralyzed, almost.

She realized he was paralyzed. Caught in a horrible memory from an earlier time. Another world. A world of pain and humiliation.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He opened the door and walked into the darkness.

Harvey put a hand on her shoulder. “Let him go.”

“Harvey, I didn’t want-”

“Where did that photo come from?”

“From the Bureau. It was circulated to all our field and resident offices because it has the characteristics of a serial.”

“A serial murderer?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Two days ago.”

“Where?”

“Utah. Some Australian exchange students were camping in a remote area of Lake Powell a few miles from Bullfrog Bay when they heard a houseboat. One of them had a cheap night vision scope, but it was good enough to see what looked like a body being dumped in the water. It was the middle of the night, around one-thirty am. They called nine-one-one and reported it. At daybreak, the federal park service sent divers down and found the body. It had been wrapped in chain-link fencing.”

Harv took it all in, then reached out to touch her arm. “You did the right thing calling us, Holly. But it has to stop here. You can’t tell anyone Nathan has the same markings on his body. His life depends on it.”

“You think the murderer is Nathan’s interrogator from Nicaragua?”

“No doubt about it. It’s his unique signature. As far as we know, Nathan’s the only person on the planet to survive Montez de Oca, and I intend to keep it that way.”

With a sickening twist of his stomach, Nathan felt a dark force stir. No! Not here.Not in front of Holly. He couldn’t let it happen. She must never see that part of him. He left the sedan and walked toward the hangars. He pulled his cell and keyed a memorized number.

An older man’s voice answered. “I haven’t had my coffee yet. This had better be damned important.”

“It’s echo five.”

Nathan knew he’d have General Robert “Thorny” Hawthorne’s full attention now. Echo five was his old code designation from his covert missions in Nicaragua. Back then, General Hawthorne had been his commanding officer. Thorny had since risen to the position of commandant of the Marine Corps. Nathan’s successful missions in Nicaragua had helped boost Thorny’s career by a star. There were unspoken debts in play-in both directions-neither of which would be mentioned.

“Well, echo five, something tells me I’m not going to like this call.”

“An old friend of ours from Central America has surfaced. A body was discovered with signature markings.”

Thorny didn’t respond.

“You still there?” Nathan asked.

“Yes.”

“Containment may be impossible.”

“We need to meet.”

“Agreed.”

“Today,” Thorny said. “I’ll move my appointment up with Lieutenant General Pearson, MarForPac’s CO. He won’t like the change of plans, but he’s a good man. He’ll deal with it. I’ll come to you. You know where.”

“Yes.”