Chapters: Ten-Twelve
X.
"Ok," Victoria offered, "I wasn't going to say anything because I thought it might cool off your friendly disposition towards me, I mean, I've seen you looking at me, and I didn't want this ride to get weird."
"Go on."
"Well, Danny works with my brother. They are partners in Indigo Fog LLC, contracting P.I. jobs in the city. I called my brother to let him know where I was headed and who I was with. He mentioned that Danny and you work in the same department at PD. Why?, did Danny call you?"
"Something like that." Jakowski said in a deflated tone.
"So, what's this stop we're making?" Pressing the "End" button on her cell phone, tucked in her back pocket, Victoria was confident enough in her ruse that she decided to forgo the "911" text to Paul.
"We're going to stop by the local country produce stand. You know, vegetables for the road. How much do you weigh?"
"Excuse me?!"
"You heard me."
"About 125 or so, I don't know, I haven't checked in a whi-."
"Yeah right. 125 it is." Jakowski checked the fuel level gauge on the dash and calculated some quick weights in his head. "Buckle both of the harnesses on your seat belt."
Victoria looked over at the speedometer and noted that they were only traveling about 65 mph but thought she would obey Jakowski's ever increasing serious tone. "Click", the second harness snapped
shut and locked victoria's body snugly into the seat. Victoria thought it curious that there were racing harnesses inside the truck and yet the stereo and paint went neglected. Rising her eyes back to the speedometer, no more than 20 seconds after her first peak, Victoria noted the rapidly sweeping hand now moving past 95 on the dial. She could feel the difference in speeds become more pronounced with the blurring of the landscape outside of the passenger window.
"What are you doing?!" She demanded.
"Hold on."
Jakowski turned the truck sharply, changing course and narrowly missing 2 Joshua Trees positioned like goal posts. The truck, now barreling across the desert at 130 mph, barely hiccuped over the imperfections in the terrain.
Victoria, who's face was white with fear, had gripped the hand rail on the door with her left hand, and with her right she found an "Oh-Shit" bar welded to the ceiling of the interior tubular steel roll-cage. Jakowski, both hands on the steering wheel, stared blankly through the windshield as his baby ate up the desert carpet.
"Here it is." The speedo trembling on 145, the engine screaming in 4th gear, the roar of the wind over the rear view mirrors almost drowning the voluminous sucking sounds of the engine's air filter. "Don't worry, they know me." Jakowski managed to say just as the front end of the truck hit the small dirt ramp.
Victoria didn't really believe it, she knew what was happening, but she didn't believe it.
The truck's back tires left the dirt ramp and spun freely in the air as the truck became air-born. Victoria looked down and marveled, if only for 1/100 of a second, at the deep and wide canyon they were now effortlessly flying across.
Jakowski griped the wheel, and only a few seconds after they took flight, the truck's tires touched down on the hard desert floor on the opposite side of the gap. The truck body compressed the suspension and lifting the tires up and off the ground once before hunkering down and pulling the truck straight and true, still moving at nearly 100 mph.
"WHAT THE &^$*%^#*!!" Victoria barbed through gritting teeth.
" I said hold on."
XI.
Slowing to a stop after about 5 minutes of post-flight hustling at 100 mph+, placing the tranny in neutral, Jakowski eyed the temp gauge as steam cooked off the hood of the truck, or maybe it was smoke from inside the engine bay, either way, the engine was hot. So was Victoria.
"You should have told me we were going to fly! You could've killed me!
"That's why I didn't tell you."
The sound of 2-stroke engines buzzed, faintly, then louder. Victoria saw a dust trail wafting out of the desert floor about 35 yards ahead. Then, seemingly rising out of the ground, two bikes popped up and began to decrease the distance between the two groups. Coming to a stop 5 yards from the truck, the two riders lifted the face-visors on their helmets and both gave a thumbs up.
Jakowski signaled back and pulled the tranny into drive. The two bikes circled around behind the truck and waited for Jakowski to roll. The three vehicles moved forward in procession and approached another gaping canyon in the desert floor. A road cut down into the rock lead to the canyon floor and had been the exit ramp for the bikes. The bikes ripped around and took the lead down the road.
"What is this, this is getting crazy." Victoria asked, having been surprisingly quiet up till now.
"Like I said, we need to make a stop at the local produce stand. Do you like Strawberries?"
"Sure, love 'em!"
"Well you're in luck." Jakowski said with a smile.
The road meandered down to the canyon floor and the bikes veered off and into a large cut-out door on the far canyon wall. Jakowski pulled the truck next to the horseshoe shaped door, placed the tranny in park, and turned the engine off.
Victoria noticed electric lights illuminating the interior corridor of the door way. The two riders had disappeared through a larger door just inside the corridor and the sounds of the bikes' engines could no longer be heard.
Jakowski unhooked his harness and Victoria followed suit. Both exited the cab of the truck, Victoria remarking to herself how nice it was for her feet to be on solid ground. She followed Jakowski through the doorway and they headed right and up a few steps. Coming to rest on the top step and facing a wooden door, Jakowski put his hand in the air and made the ASL sign for the letter "i".
Two cameras zoomed in on the hand sign, then back onto the faces of Victoria and Jakowski. A thud, followed by the sounds of rubbing steel, alerted Jakowski that the door had been unlocked and that they were cleared for entry.
It was very dark, and Victoria sniffled a bit at the unfamiliar smell.
"It is Ozone that you smell." Trumpeted a booming voice which echoed on the roof from above. "Frederick, always a pleasure!"
"Yes, yes it is." answered Jakowski, embarrassed that Victoria now knew his first name.
A light flashed on with a hum, revealing Ryan standing about 20 yards down a long hall. The walls of the hall were lined with long aluminum ducting and digital security cameras spaced at intervals of 50 ft. The floor was no longer dirt and desert dust, it was steel reinforced catwalk.
"What is it this time? Guns? Drugs? Money? Gold? Guns? Ha ha ha ha.." Ryan chuckled.
"A little bit of all please. Of course. With an extra side order of guns." Jakowski answered, seriously.
"Cooked-to-order!" Ryan said as he walked toward Jakowski, arm outstretched with an open palm.
The two friends shook hands briefly and then pulled it in for a man-hug.
"Who is this fine senorita?"
"My name is Victoria."
"Hello, my name is Ryan. Tom Ryan."
"We don't have much time, I need to get back to Nogales." Jakowski informed Ryan. "I might need your help down there too."
"You know me, always willing to help. What do you need?" Ryan inquired.
"Hardware for a few days, 10K rounds, some light fireworks, a few ounces, and about $50K in cash."
"I got you covered for all that, but ounces?"
"Gold, Ryan, Gold." Quipped Jakowski, "I'll be back for the other "ounces" on the flip side."
The three walked down the hall, the metal accents on Victoria's shoes clanking on the steel flooring. About 50 ft down the hall, after Walking through one mechanical-sliding-door, Ryan halted the group in front of a tubular steel cage-like door. Keying in his 5-digit code on the door's electronic keypad, he pushed the door open and flipped a switch on wall panel. A red-hued light responded to Ryan's wishes and the room revealed itself.
The sight dazzled Victoria's eyes.
And to be truthful, even though he'd seen it a dozen times, the sight also dazzled Fredr...er, Jakowski's eyes.
Lining the walls of the room were racks of rifles; the racks were 2-stories tall, 20 yards long, and the guns were stacked 3-rifles deep. Aks, M-16s, G3s, FALs, Dragunovs, .50 BMG Barretts, Steetsweepers, numerous redundant sniper rifles from .223 through .338 lapua.
Under the racks were pegboard organizers displaying handguns, and sub machine guns. Thousands of them. Mac-10s, H and K MP5s, Sigs, Glocks, Uzis, you name it.
Two tables in the middle of the room held crates filled with explosive ordnance, and mini guns, stacked 5-6 crates tall.
Another three tables were stacked with crates filled with variously marked ammo from a wide spectrum of manufacturing countries. Crates under all 5 tables were also filled with ammo.
Victoria, having a serious firearms fetish, immediately ran to a rack and picked up a vintage 8mm MG42.
"Where are the strawberries you promised?" She asked looking back at Jakowski, barely containing her excitement.
"So I lied." Jakowski said with a smile ear to ear.
XII.
"Hello?"
"Hey Paul, this is Danny. Did the downtown thing go ok?" He said, slightly breaking up over the cell phone.
"Yeah, I was able to get packed and on the road just fine, there is hardly any traffic out here right now."
"I know, it's been like that on the 10 the whole way so far." Llooking around the floor for his lighter that he dropped, Danny began sweeping his hand underneath the driver's seat, taking both hands off the steering wheel. "Hey let me call you back."
"Ok."
Danny placed the phone on the center console of his Range Rover, and resumed sweeping his hand back and forth under the front seat, still searching for his lighter. Keeping one eye on the road, he stretched back into the back seat and found his Bic lying on the floor. Shifting his weight back into the driving position, he adjusted his seat belt, and pulled his pack of cigarettes from his front shirt pocket. Shuffling the cigarettes a bit in the box, his fingers moved to one that was less than uniformly rolled, more slender and taller than the rest. Pulling it from the box and inserting it between his lips, he could already taste the sweet flavor of his favorite "blend" seeping through the paper and onto his pallet.
Flicking the wheel on his Bic, Danny drew in a breathe and coaxed the flame towards the twisted end of the cigarette. Slowly rolling it counterclockwise between his fingers, he inhaled and exhaled small puffs of smoke as the evenly burning paper retreated towards his mouth.
Danny placed the lighter on the console next to the phone, and flipped the switch on the cruise control, setting it at 68 mph. Picking up the phone and hitting redial, Paul's name flashed across the screen. The beeping ring tone echoed in his ears, and Danny's eyelids felt heavier than normal. He rubbed his eyes a bit, forgetting for a second that his weighty eyelids were not the result of his being tired.
"Paul!"
"Hey, so, how far have you made it?" Paul asked.
"Ummm, just passed throooough Blythe about 15 minutes ago." Danny said with a subtle, but noticeable, slurring of his speech.
"Cool, I'm about 2 hours behind you then. Are you ok? You sound tired."
"Nah, I'm just relaxing with my favorite senorita."
"LOL. Of course you are. Puff the Magic Dragon. I should've known."
"So you want to meet up at Safeway, I'll wait for you. Or do you want to head through on our own and meet up once inside?" Danny never sweated the details as much as Paul, he was hoping for a nice, uncomplicated ride into Mexico, but had a sneaking suspicion that Paul's OCD would get the better of his patience.
"Safeway it is, let's meet before we cross. Just grab some food or a beer and I'll try to make good time." Paul offered a solution to the 2 hour delay awaiting Danny.
"Ok, but let's not make crossing a big operation. This should be the easiest thing we have to do in this whole deal. Call me when your hit the Safeway parking lot. I'll talk to you later"
"Ok, take it easy." Paul hit the "end" button on his cell phone and placed it on the dash of the BMW.
Danny took a final drag on his cigarette and extinguished the small cherry before tossing it out the window. Thumbing through his CD book sitting on the passenger seat, he came to his "Temptations: Greatest Hits" album. His now perma-smile increased it's reach across his face and he slid the disk into the dash-mounted player. "Papa Was A Rolling Stone" made it's way out of the speakers and tickled Danny's ears.