Chapter 11

I approached Garth's house in Alexandria warily. Although everything looked normal, I was bothered by the way Garth's truck was backed in his driveway. In our entire adult lives I had never seen him back a car into his drive except to load or unload. It was a little thing, but it set my senses on edge. I decided to do a little reconnaissance before I went to his door. A drive around the neighborhood revealed at least two plain, lease style sedans with Virginia plates parked on side streets. Again, nothing too much out of the ordinary, but added to the odd parking of Garth's truck, enough to warrant exceptional caution.

I backed off a few blocks and dialed Garth's number on my cell phone. He answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey Garth, it's Trent." I opened.

His response was just a beat slow in coming. "Trent. Where are you?"

"I'm stuck in traffic on I-95 just south of Fredricksburg." I lied. "It'll probably take me another hour or so to get there."

"OK, I'll be waiting." He replied.

"Want me to bring a pizza?" I asked. "I'll get a large one with anchovies." Garth and I both hated anchovies, and during our younger days, any reference to anchovies had evolved to be a little code between us. Mostly we'd used it as a signal on double dates back during high school days when Garth could drive and I couldn't. He was a cool older cousin, and he'd chauffer me around, but if he made a reference to anchovies it was my signal to disappear because things were going to get hot between him and his date.

"Yea, get a large one, double anchovies." Garth replied.

Something was definitely wrong. "OK." I replied. "I'll call ahead now and order the pizza. Look for me in about an hour."

I closed the connection. Garth was in trouble. It was obvious he wasn't alone or speaking freely. From all the evidence he had at least three, probably four or more people holding him hostage and waiting in ambush for me. I thought about my options, but only for a moment. The chances of me overcoming four armed professionals holding a hostage in a confined space were nearly zero. I needed help. I debated for a while about whom to call, but in the end decided on the local police. Because of my business, I had good contacts with them, and I was well known to many officers on the force. They would also be able to mobilize a team fastest. If I delayed too long, there was a good chance that whoever was holding Garth would get suspicious and just kill him.

I put in a call to 911 and explained the situation. At first the dispatcher was skeptical, but when I identified myself and gave names and addresses and pointed out that there had already been two attempts on Garth's life in the past week, things got serious.

Within thirty minutes, a SWAT team moved silently into place. I was forced to wait at the command post a block away from the scene, but I did get to watch as the team negotiator dialed Garth's number to begin the action. It was all anti-climactic. The men holding Garth were not fanatics or crazy people bent on dieing, so the deal went down quickly. They were smart enough to realize that a non-violent surrender and a good lawyer were their best options.

When the bad guys had been bundled away, I went to find Garth. The house was a crime scene and officers were milling about officiously, but I was recognized and allowed to cross the police line. I found Garth sitting at his kitchen table giving a statement to two detectives. He looked none the worse for wear and when he saw me he smiled.

"Anchovies huh?" He laughed. "You sure saved my ass." He excused himself from the detectives and drew me into a corner.

"Trent, Marks is going to run. Based on my statement here, there's a warrant being issued for his arrest. He knows the deal went bad because one of his goons called him right before they threw their guns down and walked out."

"What can I do?"

"There's going to be some time before the arrest warrant is served. Different jurisdictions are involved, and once everyone agrees whose job it is, they'll probably go looking for him at his home. By then he'll be gone. My guess is that he'll try to fly out of the country using one of his corporate jets based at Dulles."

"You want me to try to stop him?" I questioned. "How? I've got no authority."

"I do." Garth replied. "You just take my keys and bring my truck to the other side of the block. Things are winding down outside. You shouldn't have any trouble. I'll make some excuse and slip out the back. I'll meet you in five minutes and we'll take it from there."

I did as Garth suggested, and true to his word, five minutes later I spotted him cutting through his neighbor's hedge. He hopped into the passenger side, and we headed for Dulles International Airport. The drive was about thirty minutes and Garth took the time to get on the phone and confirm that a warrant had been issued for Marks arrest.