Aztec Treasure
Extraction Operation

Mr. Red’s POV

“Check out that one,” I said.

“Bingo,” Mr. Green said as he looked through the binoculars from where we were parked and waiting. “2017 Ford Escape, license number 269-SNM. That’s our girl.”

“We let her pass by, and then we follow her until we’re out of town far enough to do this.” I sent a quick text message to Mr. Blue. “Intel good, target acquired, proceeding with extraction.”

“I didn’t get a positive identification, Mr. Red. She’s wearing a hat and was looking away from me when she passed.”

“It’s her.” I kept an eye on the car as he pulled out from our parking spot in front of Mel’s Diner in Russell, Kansas.

Mr. Green did a U-turn on the city street in our rental Dodge Charger, staying at least a block behind her. “I can’t believe she’s still following 281 south.”

“It’s what passes for a major road in this godforsaken expanse of fucking nothing,” I said. “Maria’s avoided the freeways, and she can take this road clear to Oklahoma City if she wants. It’s a good plan for someone on the run who doesn’t know the area and doesn’t want to use a phone. Still, she fucked up. Once the red light camera in Hastings caught her, she popped up on the Company’s radar. After that, it didn’t take long for the drone to replace her and guide us in.”

“The bird still up there?”

“No, it was bingo fuel and had to RTB. Flying that shit over US territory is a risk, especially at night. They won’t send up another.” We didn’t need its help anyway. One teenage girl with a year-old baby wasn’t a match for me, much less a man of Mr. Green’s talents. We’d worked together before; he was a good operator, but I had no idea what his real name was and never would.

We followed her out of town, continuing south along the two-lane highway. It was eight at night, and the roads were empty save for the pickup trucks and farm vehicles. “This is why we built the fucking freeway system,” Mr. Green complained as we did twenty miles an hour, eight of us in a line behind a tractor towing a manure spreader with a full load. “God, the smell.”

“Stay close to this pickup so she can’t see us,” I told him. It was another twenty minutes before things thinned out enough for us to make our move. I removed the portable flasher from my bag, handing it to Mr. Green to stick to the roof. “Light her up, and let’s take care of this.”

The red flasher started rotating, and I used a portable siren hanging out the window to give the noise. We quickly came up behind Maria’s car; she didn’t see us until we got close and flashed our brights. The car jerked a little as she saw us in the mirror, and then she put her blinker on and started to slow down. Mr. Greene looked over at me. “Got the juice ready?”

I checked my jacket pocket and nodded, one and a backup. Mr. Blue said it would knock her out for at least four hours, which was plenty of time to make the handoff and collect our fee. “Ready. Make sure you have that badge showing and keep a hand on that pistol. I want her focusing on you and thinking we’re the cops.”

“And here we go.” He stopped behind her and left the flasher running. I made sure my fake detective badge was hanging visibly from the chain and got out onto the gravel shoulder.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Mr. Green said as he looked up the road.

“Stay cool,” I said. What were the chances that a Sheriff’s Deputy would just HAPPEN to be driving by as we made our stop? Apparently, for us, it was one hundred fucking percent. Cops hate doing traffic stops alone, and Officer Friendly was here to help. He lit up his flashers as he slowed, then turned and parked behind us. I handed Mr. Green one of the autoinjectors. All you had to do was press it against the skin, and the needle would go in and deliver its dose in a fraction of a second. “Let him get close enough, and I’ll hit him with the needle. Back me up before you get the girl and the kid. I’ll dump him back in his cruiser.”

“Yeah.”

The Deputy was riding alone, thank God. He got out and walked up to where we were standing near the front of our Charger. “What’s going on, boys?”

I turned towards him as he walked up; he’d taken the flap off his holster and kept his right hand on that as his left held his patrol flashlight high. “Detective Gray, Deputy. Sixteen-year-old driver, drunk and combative. We’re running her license and registration now.”

“Colorado plates?”

He was even with me, and I moved before he could react. My left hand pressed his down so he couldn’t draw, while my right hand spun around and plunged the autoinjector into the side of his neck. He tried to pull away, but the drug hit him like a truck. His muscles relaxed, he dropped the flashlight, and his legs collapsed. I caught him before he hit the ground.

I looked up to see our target drop the Escape into gear and floor it. “Fuck!” He pulled his pistol out but didn’t fire. Our bosses wanted her unharmed, and shit happens when rounds go downrange. “Toss him and let’s go,” Mr. Green said as he moved for the driver’s door.

I tossed the Deputy into the ditch, then slid into the car. Mr. Green was peeling out as I was closing the door, and I put the seatbelt on as he picked up speed. “Got her?”

“She’s running dark, but it’s not like there are a lot of places to go,” Mr. Green replied. “She can’t outrun us in that thing.”

“We have to stop her, and I don’t want her crashing. You’ll have to get ahead of her and force her to stop.”

“I know.” He was already doing over a hundred; that Escape would be factory-limited to less than that. “One more minute, and we’re on her.”

“I think she figured that out,” I said. She’d locked up her brakes, turning onto a gravel road and accelerating over the cattle grate. The Charger slowed later and turned faster, and we were only twenty yards back when we left the pavement.

The dust from the road made it difficult to see her, and her four-wheel-drive was better suited to driving on this crap than the sports car we had. Green had already fishtailed twice and nearly rolled the damn thing when the passenger-side wheels dropped off the gravel on a hard right turn. “Get behind her and give spin her out before we lose her,” I said. “The damn airbags can save her, and there’s nothing but fields here to run into.”

“Roger that,” Green said. He gunned the engine on the straightaway, closing in on her. We were only thirty yards from her when she locked up the brakes and went into a powerslide on the gravel, driving off the road and through a barb-wire fence into a field. “Hang on,” he said as he braked hard.

The four-wheel-drive compact SUV had the advantage now that the chase went offroad. The uneven terrain caused the Charger to bottom out, and the freeway tires had traction issues. We were getting knocked around like kernels in an air popper as we tried to keep up, and then we hit the drainage ditch. The front wheels dropped in and the front bumper buried into the soft soil, bringing us from forty to zero in about four feet. The airbags deployed to save us, but FUCK did it hurt.

“You all right,” I asked as I opened the door.

“GODDAMMIT ALL TO HELL,” Green raged as he unbuckled his seatbelt. I got out, watching the Escape driving through the fence on the other side and back onto the gravel road. There was nothing we could do except watch her drive away.

“Check the car, Green. I need to update Mr. Blue.” I sent a text message to him. “Target evaded us, ride trashed, need extract ASAP.”

Green was shaking his head when he got done looking at the front of the car. “We’re fucked, Red. The front axle snapped,” he said. “This isn’t getting out of here without a wrecker.”

I looked behind us, and my stomach dropped into my gut. “We’re fucked, too,” I said. On the flat land, you could see miles in all directions. I could see multiple police vehicles coming our way. “Run for it?”

Mr. Green laughed as he looked around. “To where? You could run for a day, and they’d still see you from here.” He took his pistol and holster out, throwing it as far as he could into the pasture. “Text Mr. Blue. Have him send lawyers, guns, and money, because the shit has hit the fan.”

I took a step and skidded a little in the manure pile I hadn’t seen. “Yeah.”