فصل 32

Chapter 32: Shock and Awe

Charles held his wife tightly as Gervaso pulled the police van out of the jail’s parking lot. She was crying, and all he could say was, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I had already deactivated the ankle tracking bracelet she wore with a massive pulse that shorted out the device.

“Mom,” Taylor said.

Mrs. Ridley turned back. “Taylor!”

They hugged over the seat. “You made it back. I was so worried,” Mrs. Ridley said.

“We’re together again. That’s what matters.”

“With a little luck we’ll keep it that way,” Gervaso said. “What’s going on back there, Ian?” Ian grinned. “Shock and awe, baby. Shock and awe. The Elgen are sitting in their cars on the east side of the building. The chief just got out of his car to survey the damage, but it’s way too hot for him to get close.” “What happens when they don’t find a body?” Mr. Ridley asked.

“They won’t expect to find a body,” Gervaso said. “We filled the car with two hundred pounds of rust thermite. It burns at four thousand degrees. That’s hot enough to melt the asphalt beneath it. By the time it stops burning, the car will be nothing but a puddle of molten metal. Everything else will be ashes.” He glanced at Mrs. Ridley in the rearview mirror. “It’s good to see you again, Julie.” “Thank you,” Mrs. Ridley said, still cuddled up in her husband’s arms. “I didn’t think you’d be able to save me—with all the police and all. . . .” “Mom, you should have seen the Starxource plant in Taiwan. The jail’s security was like a day care compared to that.” Mrs. Ridley laughed. “I’m just glad you made it back.” “Where are we going now?” Mr. Ridley asked.

“We’re ditching the van,” Gervaso said. “It was caught on video surveillance. They may suspect it of being involved with the explosion and start looking for it.” “Where do we do that?”

“Where we left the car this morning,” he said. “It’s at a warehouse in Nampa. We’ll exchange cars, then head south to our ranch. The sooner we get out of Idaho, the better. The Elgen are cautious. They won’t just automatically assume you were killed. If they don’t find your bodies, they’ll keep looking.” * * *

There had been an accident on the freeway, so the drive to Nampa took about ten tense minutes longer than it should have. As we drove, Gervaso scanned the radio until he found a news station reporting the explosion. A spokesman for the Ada County Jail stated that they believed the explosion had been perpetrated by a local gang who had threatened retaliation after one of their gang members had been arrested last month.

“We’re doing everything in our power to bring the guilty parties to justice,” the spokesman said.

A reporter asked, “Was anyone hurt in the explosion?” The spokesman hesitated. “We have no comment on that just yet.” * * *

When we reached Nampa, Gervaso dialed a number on his cell phone, then spoke just two words, “We’re here.” We then drove slowly along a quarter-mile section of warehouses, mostly protected behind tall chain-link fences with razor wire on top. At one of the entrances a Hispanic man wearing a navy-blue mechanic’s jumpsuit pushed open a gate as we approached.

“Everything look good?” Gervaso asked Ian.

“No one here but the man,” he said. “He has a gun.” “As he should,” Gervaso said.

Gervaso drove the van through the gate, and the man closed and chained it behind us. We then drove into an open warehouse, and a metal overhead door rolled down after us. After the door was shut, Gervaso turned off the van and said, “You can all get out.” As we climbed out of the van, the Hispanic man walked in through a side door. He wore a large grin. “Hola, Gervaso.” The two men hugged; then the man grabbed one end of the van’s police decal and pulled it off.

“It looks very much real,” he said. “I do good work.” “Yes, you do good work,” Gervaso said. “Now destroy it.” The man looked at us. “Would your friends like something to drink? I have a soda machine.” He pointed to an upright soft drink vending machine.

“Yes, please,” Taylor said.

“Help yourself. You do not need coins,” the man said. He walked to the side of the room and opened the front of a Coca-Cola machine. “Please, help yourself.” Ian, Taylor, and I walked over to the machine. I grabbed a cold root beer.

“There’s no beer in that machine, is there?” Mr. Ridley asked.

“No, sir,” the man replied. “I’m sorry.”

“You want something, Gervaso?” I asked.

“Just some water.”

“There’s no water in here,” I said.

“The water is in the small refrigerator,” the man said. “On the ground.” I pulled out a bottle and threw it to Gervaso. He caught it. “Gracias.” “Señor Gervaso, I heard on the news that there was an explosion at the jail.” “Yes, we heard that too,” he said.

The man nodded. “Very nice.”

“Did they say anything about the police van?” Gervaso asked.

“No. Not a word.”

“That’s good,” Gervaso said. “What did you get for us?” “It’s over here.” The two of them walked over to a car covered with a canvas tarp. “If you’ll give me a hand, please.” The men pulled the cover off, revealing a black Chevy Suburban with tinted windows. “This is what I have for you to drive. It is full of gas. The windows are bulletproof.” “Perfect,” Gervaso said. “That will do nicely. Have you been paid?” “Yes, they took care of me.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out some keys and handed them to Gervaso. “I think you need to leave quickly. It is always good to see you, Gervaso.” “My pleasure,” Gervaso said. “Thank you for your help.” “That would be my pleasure. What would you like me to do with the money after I sell the van?” “Keep it,” Gervaso said. “But paint the van and hold off a couple months before you list it.” “Muchas gracias,” he replied. “Muchas, muchas gracias.” He looked at us. “Please, have more drinks on me.” I took an extra bottle of root beer as the man walked over to the warehouse door.

“Let’s get back to the ranch,” Gervaso said. “Everyone, get in.” I climbed into the very back of the car, while Taylor and her parents sat in the middle and Ian rode in front with Gervaso.

“I can keep you company back there,” Taylor said to me.

“No, you and your father have a lot to catch up on,” I said.

Gervaso thanked the man again, and we drove out of the small compound. As we pulled onto the freeway, Gervaso said, “Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. We’re not out of the woods yet.” “Look,” Taylor said. “You can still see the smoke.” There was a thin gray column of smoke about ten miles from us.

“How long does thermite burn?” I asked.

“It burns quickly, but the heat will remain awhile. It will be an hour before they can really examine the wreckage. If there’s anything left of it.” * * *

About two miles past the Utah-Idaho border, Gervaso’s phone rang. He picked it up.

“Yes, we have them both. We’re on our way back. We just crossed into Utah. Okay, we’ll talk tonight.” He turned off the phone and set it back in his shirt pocket. After a moment he looked back. “They were preparing rooms,” he said to the Ridleys. “They were making sure we’d gotten out all right. And that we were bringing back a couple extra guests.” “Thank you again,” Mrs. Ridley said.

“How far is it to the ranch?” Mr. Ridley asked.

“Other end of the state. So you have some time to relax.” Mr. Ridley leaned back with his arm still around his wife. “We can’t ever go back,” he said softly. “Ever.” He breathed out heavily as he looked into his wife’s eyes. “In a blink of an eye my entire world has changed.” Mrs. Ridley shook her head. “No, honey. Your world changed long before today. You just didn’t get the memo.”