Chapter 66: On the Run

July, 1985

[Since Greg and I had slept in, we weren’t even tired ... yet.]

We opted to take the Florida Turnpike, because, even though it was a toll road, it wasn’t like the asinine tollways in Illinois, where you have to stop every 10 miles and throw money into a tollbooth. This had the tickets, like Indiana and Ohio, where you pay when you get off. It also had fuel plazas so you didn’t have to get off to buy gas. It’s the most direct way to go and we didn’t have to go through any of the big cities. It was about 250 miles to I-75, about 20 miles south of Ocala.

We’d gone about 130 miles and were down about a third of a tank when we came to a plaza. It might have just been paranoia, but I kept feeling like we were being followed. There were no lights behind us for as far as I could see, so I pulled in to fill up. Greg sensed my paranoia and said he’d keep watch while I filled up. Melody went in to use the restroom and we decided we’d all do that before we left. This truck was a gas hog, and it took 15 gallons to fill. It also meant we had about a 40-50-gallon tank. Nobody even passed the plaza the whole time I filled the tank. Greg and I took care of business and he took over for a while.

We figured we were about halfway to I-75.

It wasn’t long and I started dozing off in the seat. Melody suggested we pull over and I should get in the back so I’d sleep better. She said she’d stay with Greg, to keep him company, but said we needed to start rotating before we all got sleepy at once.

That’s what we did.

It was VERY dark back there. I had my cop flashlight to use as necessary and within minutes of being back on the road, I was sound asleep. It didn’t hurt that the airbed was VERY comfortable.

I felt the truck slowing to a stop. I flashed Greg and he said we were paying the toll and then getting on I-75. He said he was still okay and I should get a little more sleep. He wanted to go another 100 miles or so before getting gas. I’d only been asleep for 2½ hours and he wanted to really crash for about 4-5 hours after we got gas. That sounded like a plan. He said Melody was crashed out with her head in his lap and he didn’t have the heart to wake her.

It was about 2AM.

Mary flashed that they’d just landed and she, Sarah, Bob, Linda and Jamie were spending the night at Stan’s house. Dad had spoken to TJ and there was something fishy going on at our place. The undercover FBI Agent working with the construction crew said the building inspector had been out three times already, and that was VERY unusual. Once would have even been unusual for this type of ‘non-structural’ interior remodelling. TJ contacted the building department late Friday afternoon and was told they hadn’t scheduled ANY inspections. He planned to arrest the guy the next time he attempted an inspection. The work was completed, but he convinced the crew to stick around till Sunday to see if that ‘inspector’ might be lured to come back.

Well, so much for me getting back to sleep.

Greg was tuned in and was now as concerned as I was. I told him we needed to consider our options and come up with a plan.

This had Brad’s fingerprints all over it.

I felt he must have either contacted ‘La Madrina’ and told her what happened, or, knowing we had all of her money, might even be planning on taking it all for himself.

Greg flashed, “Buddy, as much as it scares the HELL out of me, I think you need to get in my head, deep, and see if you can help me figure out what I may have learned from him before he put me in that Tesseract. I’ve been trying, but, every time I get a flash, it’s like I keep seeing that damned tesseract thing.”

“Yeah, but we better see if Melody can drive. We CAN’T be trying to drive while we do this.”

Melody said she was awake enough to drive for a few hours, so Greg planned on getting off to switch drivers and get gas at the next exit that had a gas station visible. About 15 minutes later I heard Greg flash, “Ahh, here we go, a truck stop, open 24 hours.”

As soon as I felt the truck stop and the engine turn off, I opened the sliding door of the truck. Before I could get out, a pickup truck with three guys in it, pulled up directly behind us.

I didn’t like the way they were looking at me. They all had on mirrored sunglasses. (Pretty strange this late at night.)

I looked around and there were 8 pumps empty and NONE behind us where they stopped. The restaurant was 100’ away with plenty of available parking right in front of it.

I flashed Greg, that this was NOT good. I heard him get out of the truck. The three guys couldn’t see him because they were so close. I flashed for Greg to go around the passenger side and have Melody stay inside.

“Got it.” He flashed.

The next thing I knew, the driver jumped out of the pickup and pulled a gun out of his pants. “You will give me this truck, Senor, or you will die.”

“Well, why do you want this truck? We don’t have anything of value on it.”

He started waving the gun around, laughing evilly, “Oh, Senor, you are such a liar. Senor Evil Eye say those black bags are all full of money. We each get one if we bring heem thee rest!”

That’s all that I needed to hear.

Before he could point it at me again, I snatched it out of his hand and cold-cocked him with it. His buddies started scrambling to get out of the truck and I watched them fly sky high, landing with a loud reverberating crash onto the roof of the canopy over the pumps. My guy started flying when I yelled at Greg to stop. I wanted to get some more answers before putting him up with his buddies.

His tumbling body went through some wild gyrations before we managed to land him safely. Greg grabbed the bucket of washer fluid and splashed him with it. As soon as he came to, I took his arm and gained a wealth of useful information. He had been told not to let me touch him, amongst other interesting things.

I smiled at Greg, “NOW you can let Senor dumbass join his compadres.”

Greg grinned, “Adios, ass-wipe. Ya shouldn’t have messed with this truck!” And away he went.

I was surprised we hadn’t attracted a crowd, but the place was almost deserted and nobody saw anything as far as we could tell.

We decided to forego getting gas and hauled ass out of there. But not before retrieving a cell phone from the front seat of the pickup truck and taking the distributor cap.

I discovered that Brad is known as ‘Evil Eyes’ to his ‘La Madrina’ friends.

I wonder how he got THAT nickname?

He’s considered to be her true number two lieutenant. His real name is still not clear and Senor Dumbass didn’t know it either. I also discovered we had two more ‘welcoming’ committees waiting for us, if these clowns failed to get us or call in.

One would be just south of Atlanta and another, just south of Chattanooga, both on I-75, waiting to spot our U-Haul as we passed by certain rest areas. They had our license plate number and everything. Somebody had been watching us ever since we docked. I had to wonder how they knew we weren’t going back to Miami with the yacht...

I summoned Dad to tell him about our latest incident. He told us we needed to come up with another place to hide the loot, because our place was now out of the question. He asked where we were and I told him just south of Ocala, Florida.

He said he was communicating with TJ and would get back to me soon, but to keep going for now. We were all wired, but, I knew when the adrenaline rush wore off we’d be dead tired. Less than 10 minutes later I heard a familiar voice, “Hey Charlie! Lenny just told me about your latest encounter of the most curious kind.”

“Hey, TJ, what the hell are you doing up at this ungodly hour of the morning?”

I could hear him chuckling, “Cleaning up your messes! Crime never takes a break; you know? It seems the locals down there found three Mexicans taking a siesta on the roof of a service island. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

It was our turn to laugh, “Hey, that wasn’t me! Greg was practicing his field goal kicking. He was three for three. I told him he should try out for the Bears!”

Greg almost blew his pop out of his nose. Melody was trying to keep him from choking, he was coughing so hard. Good thing I was driving.

TJ came back, “Anyway, Lenny said you need a change of plans, well, when you get up to Lake City, get off at exit 427 and head east to the first gas station you’ll see. The Jacksonville branch of the FBI will meet you to take your truck. They’ll give you their prisoner van to borrow. It’s armoured and heavy enough for all the cargo Lenny told me you’re transporting. They won’t ask you any questions about it, so don’t worry. They’ll have three agents matching, roughly, you, Greg and ... Melody’s descriptions. They’ll also have two back up cars to follow the truck. We need to capture those other road pirates that Lenny told us about. I wish I knew exactly where they intended to take the truck.”

“Ahh, grasshopper, before I let Greg kick the winning field goal, I found out they were to meet ‘Evil Eyes’ at 200 E. 130^th Street in Riverdale. I think it’s near some kind of rail yard.”

“YES! YES. That’s perfect. You don’t know this, but, thanks to Lenny’s buddy ‘Mortie’, we’ve been tracking two barges, loaded with drugs, coming up the Mississippi River. The big boss lady is supposed to be here to close the deal. We’re hoping to clean-out the whole rats nest. They are currently on the Illinois River, just north of Beardstown, IL. We just didn’t know exactly where their warehouse was. That address nails it down. It’s the perfect place for them to unload their barges.”

“Glad we could be of assistance. Oh, and Melody sends her greetings, maybe we’ll have to get together before she heads back to her day job.” Melody was giggling.

“Count on it! I didn’t get a chance to get to know her before Janet and I had to leave. Tell her Janet is dying to get with her too.”

“Will do, oh, and Melody said to keep the week of New Year’s open. We’re all invited back for a hell of a party.”

“Wow! That’s great. I’m putting THAT on my calendar. Tell her thanks. I’ll let you get back to your dad. Take care, Charlie. “

Dad was back, “Okay, well here’s what I think we have to do. Until we catch Brad or Evil Eyes or whatever his name is, I think you need to take your stuff to Avoca, Iowa.”

“WHERE? You mean Grandma and Grandpa’s house? Do they have a vault or something?”

Greg pulled out the map and was looking it over and shaking his head. “Umm, Pops, we can’t GET there from here! Christ. You’re talking like 30 hours from here and a lot of back-tracking or two lane roads. Could we still at least take I-75 through Atlanta and Nashville, since they won’t be looking for a prisoner transport?”

“Sure, in Chattanooga, it turns into I-24. Take that to I-57, then I-64, to I-55, to I-74, to I-80. Yeah, it’s gonna be a pain in the ass, but, I don’t have a better place to leave that much money. Almost no one knows about Charlie’s grandparents and they own a secure storage locker place. It’s attached to Grandpa’s heavy equipment dealership. If nobody sees you unloading anything, it’ll be like it disappeared. After you unload your loot, just drive back here and TJ will take care of your vehicle. Just remember to stop somewhere and rest so the FBI gets ahead of you a little bit. Don’t forget, that thing IS armoured, just load it so you can still use the air mattress.”

We reluctantly agreed with Dad and according to the mileage markers we were only 45 miles from Lake City. We decided to wait to delve into Greg’s mind until we were back on the road in our new ride. We talked about how Brad’s minions figured out we weren’t going to Miami.

Melody hated to think that another one of her people might be working with Brad. I asked her exactly why we had to go to Fort Lauderdale. She said for our yacht it was the closest place to get that type of work done. I realized Brad DID know we needed repairs and possibly told his people that. Melody hoped that was the case.

Less than an hour later, we pulled into the specified gas station. A Black Chevy Suburban pulled up next to us and two FBI agents had their ID’s out and asked if we were Charlie Swenson and Greg Sanders. We took out our driver’s licenses and our FBI Auxiliary Agent cards. They smiled and gave our ID’s back. The one who seemed in-charge was named Jim Wilson. He said, “Okay, there’s the van you are going to use. Do you want to back up to it and load your things or do you want to move that over here?” He was pointing to a Chevy Step van. It was the size of a UPS truck and would definitely work for us.

I said, “Thanks, Special Agent Wilson, let me move it over here and maybe you can show me anything important I should know about it.”

He said, “Mitch? Why don’t you take this gentleman and check him out on our ‘Bad Boys Bus?”

He chuckled and we walked over to it. He told me to get behind the wheel and he jumped in the passenger side. This thing had everything a regular patrol car had. Police radio, (which he said we could listen to, but should only use if needed, ) siren and flashing lights. He showed me a flip chart with all of the frequencies used by every localities State Trooper’s and most County Sheriff’s departments. It had automatic transmission, but no bench seat. Instead, it had two bucket seats and a jump seat behind the passenger seat.

There was a door/gate into the back. The wall was see-thru with heavy chain-link like fencing. There were bench seats on both sides with the entire rest of the floor was open. Our crates could all be laid out so we could still put the air mattress on top of them. There was more than enough room for all of the duffel bags and our suitcases. There were no windows except those in front. There was even a curtain that could be pulled to cordon off the front from the back.

I started the engine and backed it up to the back of our U-Haul. I stopped to open the back doors of the Step-van, then backed up to within an inch of our truck. Greg was in the back of our truck and I walked through the gate into the back of the Step-van and within 5 minutes, Greg and I transferred all of our stuff.

We had room to spare. I moved forward and Greg jumped out and closed the back doors of the van.

Mitch explained that the back doors locked automatically when the handles were turned up. When the handles were up, they couldn’t be opened from the outside without the key. They couldn’t be opened from the inside, ever. There were no handles on the inside. The front gate would only lock with the key, to prevent from being accidentally trapped in back.

That was good to know.

We were given two set of keys and papers stating we were authorized to use the vehicle. We were technically on assignment transporting evidence for the FBI.

Mitch chuckled, “If any local-yokels try giving you a hard time, tell them to call this number and ask for Special Agent Terrance Johnson. I take it you know him?”

I chuckled, “Oh yeah, TJ is a very good friend of mine. Greg and I worked for him and Janet Franks a few times.”

Mitch chuckled, “TJ’s a good agent. I was glad he wasn’t killed when those gangbangers kidnapped him in Pittsburgh.”

“That was one of the first cases Greg, my brother, Bob and I worked with the FBI on. My dad was kidnapped too.”

His eyes shot open and he zipped his lips. Then he whispered, “Are you guys, ‘The Three Amigos’?”

I nodded and grinned, “two out of the three, yeah.” He zipped his lips again, “Holy shit! You know I’ll get my tittie in the wringer if I ask any more questions, but, I’m glad to meet you. You guys are like legends!”

I put my finger across my lips, “Just doing what we could do to help. If we didn’t have this other thing to do, I’d volunteer to go with you guys. I hope you get them all.”

He shook my hand and Agent Wilson called us to come over by the Suburban. He smirked, “Ole Mitch is like an old woman, yapping incessantly. Did he give you the papers?”

I waved the packet that Mitch gave me and nodded. Agent Wilson called out, “Carol, Steve, Art, get over here and switch shirts with these guys.”

They looked a little embarrassed, “Here?”

Wilson chuckled, ‘Yeah, come on, were in a bit of a hurry. Charlie, would you three mind swapping your shirts with these guys? Since the bad guys seem to know what you’re wearing, this will help disguise my Agents.”

Melody giggled and pulled her blouse over her head, letting her magnificent bare breasts shake in the breeze. There were some subdued, but amused gasps. Agent Carol Lambert said, “Melody is it? I’m sorry, but even without a bra, my blouse may be a little tight up top, if you know what I mean?” Both girls were now giggling.

Carol reached over with her forefinger, to lift Mitch’s head up.

Mitch chuckled, “Caught me, Carol, but, you may need to pad your bra a bit.”

Carol smirked, “Pig!” Melody giggled, “Oh, men are all the same. We’ve got two boobs, but, men are ALL boobs!”

Laughter broke out as well as some moans.

We all got re-dressed and shook hands all around. I made sure they had my truck keys and padlock. Then I remembered there wasn’t much gas left in the truck. (The van was on ‘Full’.) I offered to give them some money for gas. Agent Wilson shook his head, “Nah, we’ve got Uncle Sam’s credit card. Thanks for offering, though.”

With that, we mounted up and got on the road. We spotted a 24-hour McDonalds just past the entrance ramp and decided to grab some burgers and three large coffees. We needed to let the FBI get at least 15 minutes ahead of us, anyway. Our interaction with our new friends really helped calm our anxieties from earlier.

I noticed Greg and Mel juggling their coffee. That’s because Melody was playing pocket pool with Greg while he had his mitts up her culottes tickling her fancy.

Greg chuckled, “Maybe once we get on I-24 we can step up the pace. Hell, we’ve got our very own ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card!”

Melody smiled, “Those guys were pretty cool, for cops. I’ve always been nervous around them, but, they were like regular people. I didn’t know you two worked with them before. That’s REALLY cool. We’re like the ‘Mod Squad’.”

I laughed, “Ha! You’re much hotter than Julie ever was. You probably could have worn HER bra when you were 12. Hmm, I wonder if Julie ever fucked Linc and Pete?”

“Ohhh, I fantasized about that when I was younger! And yeah, she wasn’t more than A-cups. I’d have done both Pete and Linc, AT ONCE! If they’d have let me.”

Greg howled, “If YOU were playing Julie, I’d have been whacking off even more than I DID after watching that show.”

Melody was tittering, “Ohhh Linc, you say the nicest things!” Giggle, “Do you wanna go back there and solve some crimes with me? OR, maybe commit some?” She was pointing to the bed and giggling like crazy.

I knew where this was going.

Before I could grin, they were through the gate and ravishing each other. First they fucked like wild bunnies, then, Greg received a ‘wake-em-up’ treatment from Melody’s mouth and they ‘replayed’ with a deep, pulsing, slow coupling. For the next 45 minutes, all I heard were moans and gasps and screams as they both lavished orgasms on each other. (Okay, okay, so Greg only had one more, HUGE one, but I lost count on Melody at a baker’s dozen. Sheesh!) They both checked to make sure I was awake, then fell sound asleep in each other’s arms. (And wet-spots.)

I kept having to slow down, as I constantly came up on the two Suburbans and our old truck. This van drove amazingly nice. It’s very comfortable and easy to drive. The cruise control worked well too. When I reset it at 54 MPH, I didn’t catch up to our new friends again.

The next four hours passed uneventfully. I was tuned into their special frequency, and heard them say our ‘doppelgangers’ had picked up a tail. It was a raggedy, late 60’s model Chevy van, that pulled out of a rest area, 60 miles south of Atlanta. They were planning on getting off just south of the loop around Atlanta and doing the takedown in a motel parking lot. It was about 6:00 AM and the sun was up. A motel sure sounded like a good idea, as I was getting a bit drowsy.

For the next hour, I listened to them talk. One Suburban sped ahead so the pirates wouldn’t suspect they were being followed. They were going to make sure they had a clear spot, where no civilians would be in the line of fire. They also wanted to get a look inside the van to see how many perps there might be. The back windows of the Suburban were blacked out, so they could stare without being seen. They reported seeing at least four ‘beaners in the can’. The people after our loot were getting more desperate.

The chatter woke Greg and Melody, who crawled back up front with me. They complained they had to pee ... BAD.

I did too and cursed having passed the rest area 15 minutes earlier. We heard our friends say they were exiting at exit 237. We saw a sign for a Checker gas station at exit 231, which was only 3 more miles away. We decided to stop to pee and fill up the Van. By the time I pulled up to the pumps, the bust was going down.

The perps didn’t wait for our doppelgangers to get out of the truck and were running out of the van to confront them. There were actually five perps and they all had automatic weapons. We couldn’t leave our Van with all this happening. It seemed like forever, but five minutes later they were calling into their Atlanta office to bring a ‘clean-up’ crew, for ‘five down’.

I had learned that meant all five perps were dead. They also requested a ‘bus’ for one injured Agent. Melody was doing the ‘pee-pee’ dance and said she’d start the pump while Greg and I waited for any more news. The radio fell silent, so Greg and I exited, locked the doors and ran inside to pee, ourselves.

We topped off the tank and paid for the gas. This thing didn’t get any better gas mileage than our truck did. We’d gone 258 miles and put in 27 gallons. This thing must have a huge gas tank, because it was only down to half a tank! Melody said she could hear something about being ‘10-7 near their last 20’.

I laughed, “That means they’re fixing to have some donuts and coffee somewhere. Wanna join them?”

Greg smirked, “Let’s 10-18 to their 20”

Melody frowned, “Say what?”

He laughed, “Lets hurry to meet them!”

She smacked him upside the head and started giggling. I headed up the road then handed Melody a cheat sheet with all the codes on it, that Mitch had showed me. Less than 10 minutes later, we spotted our truck and the two Suburbans in a small diner’s parking lot. They were at a large table off in the corner. One of the agents was missing.

We were asked to join them and we sat down. The waitress brought three cups and a coffee pot. She asked if we were Agents, too. We said no, just as Mitch and Agent Wilson said yes. The waitress was certainly confused, but comfortable around cops.

She tittered, “You guys don’t know if you’re Agents or not?”

Wilson chuckled, “They’re Undercover Agents. They were back down the road aways to stay out of sight. They’re rookies and just didn’t want to reveal their status.’

She took our orders and left us.

I looked at Wilson, ‘You guys really consider us Agents?’

He chortled, “It’ll get you free breakfast. You complaining?”

Greg laughed, “Well, shut my mouth! Thanks guys.” He reached out to shake Wilson’s hand and instantly went into a deep thought of some kind. I was in his head and saw what he saw. We were doing that much more since our ‘booster’ that we gave each other when we did Mike.

I cleared my throat, “Hey, what happened to...”

“Anderson, he took a slug in the arm. Those bean wads all had Uzis. I hate those fucking things. They spray bullets everywhere! Three of us were hit, but our vests took care of us. The bastards started shooting the second Steve and Art got out of the truck. If that had been you guys, you’d probably all be dead.”