If I Should Die

THIRTY-THREE

The sun was a thin line on the horizon by the time Noah flew Sean’s Cessna over the greater Spruce Lake area.

Lucy had the Argus thermal imaging camera in her hands. “Is this going to work?” she asked. She was familiar with the imaging technology, but didn’t think a handheld device had the range that surveillance aircraft did.

“It’s top of the line,” Noah said.

Lucy smiled. “Sean likes his toys.”

“The weather is perfect and the plane is in good shape,” Noah said, “but this is still a risky maneuver.”

“I don’t understand. Because of the trees? Or that it’s getting dark? Do we have to fly too low?”

Noah glanced at her. “You didn’t seem like a nervous flyer this morning.”

“I’m not, usually.” She wouldn’t admit to it, at any rate. She didn’t consider herself phobic about flying. She was just having a touch of nerves when they flew low over rolling mountains with trees suddenly popping up here and there while she looked for a barn full of cannabis through a thermal imaging camera.

“The terrain is not my primary concern. I’ve flown under far worse conditions. I’m more concerned about ground security. We may draw unwanted attention.” He checked his gauges and slowly descended as they approached the town boundaries. “I don’t think Sean realizes this is like finding a needle in a haystack.”

They’d discussed strategy during the flight. Noah mapped the coordinates surrounding the greater Spruce Lake area and planned to fly in a circular pattern while Lucy monitored the thermal imaging camera. Barns or warehouses that might be growing marijuana would be easily spotted because of the extensive light needed to grow the crops indoors, which generated plenty of heat.

“Why didn’t ATF inform the local FBI? That’s protocol,” Lucy said.

“Because they do whatever they damn well please.” Noah shot her a glance. “A lot like your boyfriend.”

“Is this going to be pick-on-Sean day?”

Noah grinned. “That might be fun.”

Noah’s phone rang. He glanced down at the center console. “It’s Stockton. Answer it. I’m going to stay at this altitude so we don’t lose him.”

“Sean has a built-in cellular thingy,” Lucy said, feeling stupid that she didn’t remember the technical name.

Noah laughed, for the second time that day. “Why am I not surprised?”

Lucy answered the phone. “Lucy Kincaid.”

“Hello, Lucy. Rick Stockton.”

“Noah is flying. I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Where are you now?” Stockton asked.

Noah said, “We’re fifteen miles from the town proper. I’m beginning a circular rotation, starting wide. Lucy has the Argus. We’re at the upper range of this unit’s capabilities, but I still have visibility for the next forty minutes and can lower altitude if we see a potential hot spot.”

“Good. I spoke to the ATF operations director in Brooklyn. Took me nearly two hours to reach him—I could have flown to New York and met him in person faster. He bullshitted me for the requisite ten minutes while trying to figure out what we knew, so I pulled my ace out of the hole and informed him that his operative shot at a federal agent who was on vacation and if he didn’t give me everything he had, I’d make his life a nightmare.”

“It worked?”

“As planned. But it’s not good news. They have one deep undercover agent in Spruce Lake. Omar Lewis, going by the alias Omar Jackson. He’s been in deep cover for thirteen months.”

“That long?”

“A civilian contacted the DEA in January of last year regarding what he believed was an extensive marijuana farm. DEA was going to go in but ATF caught wind of the report and asked for leadership on it because one of the names in the file, Gary Clarke, was a known gunrunner with ties to the notorious Sampson Lowell. DEA stepped aside and ATF went in.”

“Thirteen months is a long time.”

“Yes, and there is no backup. Lewis reports weekly, and last asked that a team be ready within one hour on his call. Brooklyn has a team in Syracuse, which is two hours away. They informed Lewis, but he hasn’t responded that he got the message. They’re moving the team to Canton, but Lewis has yet to call them in.”

“Anything else?”

“He’s sending the files via courier, refuses to fax them. I swear, he’s the most paranoid agent I’ve spoken with.”

“Sir,” Lucy said, “do you have a description of Agent Lewis?”

“Of course.” The sound of flipping papers. “Thirty-nine, fourteen-year veteran of ATF. African-American—wait, I should say Jamaican-American. He was born there, came to the U.S. when he was three. Wears his hair very short or shaved, five foot ten, one hundred seventy pounds.”

“The cook.”

“You know him?” Stockton said.

“Omar is the cook at the Lock & Barrel. Sean and I saw him Thursday night. He stood out because he was the only black man we’d seen in town. No one paid him any attention, though. Reverse psychology—stand out so they don’t think you’re a cop.”

“It worked. According to his boss, he’s in with the number-two bad guy. But these past couple weeks, information has dried up. Lewis thinks there’s a new player, but everyone’s tight-lipped, so he didn’t call in the cavalry yet.”

“Did he report shooting at two civilians?” Noah asked.

“He didn’t know, but isn’t going to let his man get hung out to dry so refused to comment.”

“Understood,” Noah said. “Can he get word to Lewis about our presence?”

“He’ll try.”

“Sir, I don’t think that’s good enough.”

Lucy said, “Who was the civilian who made the original report?”

“Joseph Hendrickson.”

She glanced at Noah. “I think we—” She stopped as something flashed in the thermal camera. “Noah! Look!”

Noah glanced at the screen. “Bingo. Mr. Stockton, sir, we found our warehouse full of weed.”

“I’ll wait for your report.”

Lucy shut off the cell phone and adjusted the camera. The red, orange, and yellow glowing colors over the external structure of the warehouse told them that it was well heated with high-wattage lights. “Wow. I didn’t realize it would be so noticeable!”

Noah made a note on a pad attached to the console. “I got the location. We’ll swing around and take another pass, then—”

“No—go north. Look at this.” She pointed at the ground where there were clearings ahead.

As Noah headed north, one warehouse gave way to another about one hundred yards apart.

“Two warehouses?” Lucy asked.

“I think you’re right.” Noah looked at his map and the terrain below. “We’re approximately four miles northeast of the town center. The population center is in town, and most of the larger-acreage properties are south and west.”

“Could there be more?”

“Anything’s possible, but look at the size of those buildings.”

Trees dotted the area, which was relatively flat, but didn’t provide a complete canopy. The warehouses may have once been barns—they were the same relative size and shape—but they’d been completely renovated. Likely insulated to keep down the cost of the electricity and heat. It would still cost a small fortune to run the facilities.

“I’m going east to follow that road down there,” Noah said. “It appears that both those warehouses are accessible from it.”

The road dipped into a valley and ended before the mountain began to rise again on the far edge of the Spruce Lake area, opposite from the Hendricksons’ and Callahans’ properties. Four new buildings were nestled in the valley, each half the size of the large barns they’d passed a mile away. A rambling ranch house spread out on the far side of the property, at the base of the mountain.

“Two of the buildings are possibles,” Lucy said, showing Noah the screen. “The other two are dark. The house—very small thermal signatures.”

Noah glanced. “People. We need to get out of here.” He started his ascent and turned away from the property at the same time that three men ran from the house, and a fourth came from one of the buildings.

“They have semiautomatic rifles,” Lucy said, sliding the camera back into its case.

She heard the rapid fire of the guns even over the plane’s engine, sounding more like comic pops than weapons fire.

Noah increased speed and continued to climb. The window behind Lucy cracked. “Those are fully automatic,” he said grimly.

A sharp metallic bang was followed by alarms in the cockpit and the small Cessna dipped dangerously to the left. Noah’s hands gripped the yoke, fighting to control their descent.

“It’s the rudder,” he said. “We have to land. Look for a road, an open field. No trees.”

They were heading northwest and a small lake was directly beneath them. The sun was gone, they were flying in the twilight, and Lucy had a hard time distinguishing the terrain without any outside lights to point her to a road.

“Lucy, anything! I need to get her down while I still have some control.” The propeller sputtered and Noah flipped a switch rapidly until it came back on.

Lucy saw a dirt road just the other side of the lake heading back toward the town. “On the left.”

Noah glanced. “Twenty degrees left. I don’t know if I can turn the plane.”

As he moved the stick to go left the plane dipped precariously.

“Bad idea,” he said.

“I don’t see another road.”

“I’m aiming for the field.”

He couldn’t regain the control he’d had before he attempted the turn, and they were dropping fast.

Lucy sat in the co-pilot seat, buckled in, gripping the strap hanging from the ceiling. Though Noah was tense, he had an aura of calm command even as the plane continued to fall. He worked the panel of switches and buttons like a master musician. There was a waxing crescent moon, hardly reflecting any light, but because the sky was cloudless and there was still a hint of light on the western horizon, she could make out the edges of the trees. The field was shorter than a football field with trees lined on the far end.

If Sean were landing under these conditions, he’d be talking to make both himself and her less nervous. Even when he was fully alert and in crisis, Sean always appeared relaxed and casual. Yet he had the same confidence that Noah had.

She missed Sean’s manner. She could almost hear him saying, “It’ll get a little bumpy, Princess, but it’s no problem for a Rogan.”

Noah said, “Get ready.”

He had to turn the plane slightly to make it to the field and not hit the lake. The plane protested, sputtered, and fell three stories. Lucy’s stomach rose and she tightened her grip. Noah leveled off for a few seconds, the tops of trees scraping the bottom of the plane, a thick branch hitting the front window. Lucy bit back a scream.

They touched the ground faster and sooner than she expected, and she bit her tongue. Blood filled her mouth and her eyes watered. She swallowed, her stomach queasy.

The plane bumped up, then came down hard. Noah held the controls firmly, trying to give no yield to the plane’s natural momentum to turn or spin, but it was a battle between machine and nature and man, and they were losing, two against one.

The field was rocky and rutted, and they didn’t roll, they bounced, coming down hard again. Lucy’s head hit the side window. The window behind her that had been shot earlier shattered, the sound startling her, and this time she did scream. She couldn’t hear herself over the noise of the plane.

Lucy had faced death before. While fear had been there, so had resolve and the will to live. Each time she’d had choices to make, and while her decision could have had a tragic ending, she was still in control. Having control kept her from panicking.

She had no illusion of control tonight. She could die, and it wouldn’t be because she’d made the wrong decision, but fate. She could die, and Sean would never know she loved him.

He knows. He tells you often enough that you love him.

But he needed to hear it from her. Deep down, she knew he was waiting for it, insecure because she couldn’t admit the depth of her feelings. Her nightmares now weren’t just about her past. They were about losing Sean. Her fears held more power because they weren’t just about her anymore, they were about them.

The plane lurched up again and Lucy saw her real fears, the ones she kept buried, in their full light: loss, loneliness, helplessness.

She had been so alone, even with her family surrounding her, until Sean walked into her life and taught her how to live and laugh. She was no longer lonely, in the deep, weary existence she’d had for years.

Love was a risk. Sean made it look so easy when he told her I love you. Yet when she looked at him, he was waiting. He was scared she didn’t love him back, no matter how confident he was that she did. He needed her to admit it, because he knew she wouldn’t lie.

She had to tell him.

She had to first survive.

The plane hit a boulder and forced them to an immediate stop, but the momentum kept the tail end going and she was looking at the ground through the front window. Then the plane continued to turn, and it hit the ground hard, upside down, and stopped.

She waited a minute, unsure if the plane was still moving, her heart racing, blood dripping from her mouth and head, her body bruised.

But she was alive.

“Lucy!”

“I’m okay.”

“We need to get out.” Noah undid his harness and turned himself around so he was squatting, his feet on the ceiling. “Shield your eyes.”

He kicked at the door and it released.

Lucy fumbled with her harness, but her fingers weren’t working right. She couldn’t see what she was doing. Noah reached over and with one hand released the lock. She would have fallen on her head, but Noah took her under her arms and pulled her out.

“I’m okay,” she repeated.

“You’re bleeding and disoriented and shaking.”

“Sorry,” she said automatically.

He leaned her against the plane and said, “Sit for a minute. I’m going to grab what I can.”

Her heart was racing and her hands were shaking as she brushed her hair away from her face and came away with blood.

Noah was at her side a minute later and took her hand. She tried to focus on him. “Lucy?”

“Fine,” she said, her voice sounding as though she were speaking in a tunnel. “I’m fine.”

He squeezed her hand.

“We can take a minute.” He sat in front of her. “Let me look at that cut.”

He shined a light in her face. “Good reaction, but you might have a mild concussion. I know I do.” He opened a familiar black duffel bag. “Sean always comes prepared,” he said. “Emergency supplies, extra guns, ammo. Black clothing—he even has a jacket in your size. And of course a first aid kit.”

He took gauze and wiped the blood from her face, folded it, poured water on it, and wiped more. He then found a clean piece of gauze and said, “Hold this against the cut. I’m going to try to find a phone, then we have to go. They’ll be able to find us real quick.”

He stood and looked at the upside-down plane. “I don’t think Sean will ever let me drive his car now.”

Noah stepped away and Lucy smiled at his joke. She searched her pockets for her phone, but didn’t find it.

In the distance, she thought she heard dogs.

“Noah?” she called.

He was already rounding the plane. “I heard them. We have to get out of here.”

He handed her a gun from the duffel. “I can’t find our phones, but there’s a radio in the bag and when we find cover, I’ll call this in.”

He strapped the duffel to his back and pulled Lucy up. Her legs buckled and Noah caught her. “Okay?” he said.

She nodded. Noah wrapped his arm around her waist and helped support her as she started walking. “You just need to get your landlegs back,” he said.

The dogs were getting closer, and now Lucy saw lights as well, but they were still on the other side of the lake. Once they reached the downed plane the dogs would pick up their scent.

They walked unsteadily across the field to the dirt road Lucy had seen from the air. It was easier to traverse than the rock-strewn field.

“I’m okay now,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Let’s pick up the pace; I want to get off this road ASAP.”

Over the barking dogs, they heard the roar of an ATV engine and they ran.