Jackknife 26
Chapter 26 West Coast Headquarters
[ Index ]
[P] [1] [2] [3 [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]
[11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]
[21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30]
There was no trouble leaving Montana, crossing the Idaho Panhandle and going into Washington, including a Cascade Range mountain pass. Problems began on the final approach to Seattle.
“Escort One, go ahead.”
“I’m going to need a firm location for delivery soon. The GPS is indicating a transfer to I-5 near the center of Seattle.”
Cray could hear muffled conversation noises between Ken and Bill as Ken was just covering the mic with a palm and not hitting mute.
“The final destination is not input into the GPS. You will receive verbal instructions after reaching Seattle. There’s no avoiding passing through on I-5 to get to the islands on the far side.”
“Wait, wait, wait. This is not what we agreed to. I was supposed to stick to I-90 the whole way, not try to navigate city driving with trailers.”
“Security concerns forced some changes.”
“You guys are unbelievable. I’m stuck with no communications, no deviations, and you change the rules any way you like.”
“The situation developed in the field, and the contract covers that eventuality. Nothing can be done about it now. This is the reality we have to deal with.”
A dozen retorts crossed Crays mind. He had to toss them all due to the profuse cursing involved. A few more came up and had to be discarded as well. They were threats, not business negotiations. He took a deep breath, swallowed the saliva build up from the bitter taste of uttering the reply that was worse than biting into a raw, over-ripened goya.
“Then work with me here. Give me a destination that isn’t so short I have to ask for an update every five minutes. It will help me navigate city traffic better.”
There was a notable pause. Perhaps they were chewing on their own bitter melon, thought Cray.
“Aim for Anacortes. The destination is a facility short of the ferries but on the same road. That will take you north on I-5 a ways, then a turn off at Mt. Vernon to a secondary road the will connect you to the North Cascades Highway. The facility on the right, shy of Anacortes.”
“Roger that,” Cray managed, his voice lacking enthusiasm.
Interstate 5 in mid Seattle was everything he worried it would be. Massive congestion, lane reductions, construction, a mess for any size vehicle, a nightmare for oversized ones. He was certain no one else was happy he was passing through.
Timing the turn off to the secondary road was difficult because he needed so much room to fit in it looked like a perfect opportunity for everyone and their cousins to slip into the gap.
Finally on the North Cascades Highway, he scanned for the facility. They liked that word at Silver Label. It could mean anything from a small campus to a sprawling industrial complex. It had to be small because nothing showed on the GPS. Perhaps too insignificant to add and not worth paid advertising.
As soon as he spotted it, he knew he had it all upside down and backwards. It wasn’t a small campus, it was a modern day fortress likely guarding a major docking facility. They weren’t being tight with money not advertising it on GPS, they were paying a fortune to keep it off the GPS map.
Cray turned into the long entrance way, wide enough for two semis to pass simultaneously, and slowly approached the huge gates. The sheer scale of the facility walls made the security gate booth look ridiculously small. he handed over his ID and manifest to the guard and waited. How much longer, he wondered.
He received his paperwork back with a security pass and instructions to follow the blue lined lane inside to the drop off point. The giant gates slowly swung open, curiously on both sides of the access way, for entering and exiting.
Driving forward into the facility he spotted the blue lined lane and pulled Rhea and trailers into perfect alignment. Every fifty feet or so there were the letters VIP painted across the lane. Cray was pretty sure it wasn’t referring to him personally, but he felt it all the same. A Very Important Package was being delivered to a Very Important Person. He was going to make a pretty showing of the delivery.
A glint in the side mirror on his side caught his eye as he was entering the first turn. He looked back at the wide open gate but saw only darkness. His eyes flicked to his rear view camera to see Bill, at the wheel, reach into his jacket, pull his pistol and shoot Ken in the head. Ken collapsed in a spray of blood against the shattered passenger window.
Cray’s chest tightened and his heart skipped a beat. Time slowed. So much adrenaline flooded his body his face flushed on the next throb of his heart. Movement caught his eye. A half dozen black Toyota SUVs came racing through the open gates. More followed, but Cray’s body was already in motion. He threw the automatic decouple switch and floored the accelerator, whipping the steering wheel hard left.
All the consoles lit up with warnings, buzzers sounded and alarms went off. Metis was talking to him but Cray wasn’t in receiving mode. He shouted back at the computer machine gun style, emergency, facility under attack, alert all security.
When he had turned almost a full 180 degrees, Rhea spurted forward. The sedan was gone. Cray scanned for it but a group of SUVs charged him.
He steered for the lead SUV and yelled at them all.
“So you want to play chicken with a semi, do ya?” he shouted angrily.
The SUV swerved and skedaddled as Cray steered for whatever SUV was closest to him, setting off proximity alarms and collision deterrence. The SUVs were nimble, great drivers in high performance vehicles, but Cray was creating chaos. The huge gates were swinging shut, and the Toyotas kept coming. The late comers faced a terrible choice of hitting a gate or a speeding semi driven by one mad driver.
As the gates near closed, Cray brought Rhea around and dashed back to the center of the grounds. He came up on one Toyota stopped to exchange gunfire with the slowly arriving security forces and slammed into it, fighting the collision system for control.
He found a second target and a third, taking them broadside, jerkily running over the remains for good measure.
The tide was turned, the advancing forces stopped, facility security fully deployed.
Cray slowed down and returned to the trailers. In one smooth maneuver he coupled the trailer and stopped to catch his breath. The console warnings inside of Rhea flashing bright and colorful.
A security officer, judging by his uniform, approached Cray.
“That was some driving exhibition. What do you do for an encore?”
“Deliver the cargo, get paid, go home.”
“Good plan. I hope I can talk with you later as I sort through this mess.”
“Sure thing. The company has all my particulars. I’m Cray Scott.”
“Noted. Thank you.”
“Do you know what happened to my escorts, Ken Smith and Bill Springfield?”
“Yes, we found them. They hit an embankment at high speed. Mr. Springfield is in intensive care. Mr. Smith didn’t survive.”
“Smith was already dead. Springfield shot him before the accident. There’s video evidence. Computer, send the rear view camera data to—”
“Commander Ute.”
“—to Commander Ute at the client’s west coast headquarters in reverse order.”
Until then could you tell me where your directors are located? I am hoping they have contact with Silver Logistics’ directors”
“I’m sorry, we have only one director. Mr. Malvorn. He’s with some clients, at the end of the blue lane. I think they are expecting you.”
Cray nodded.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you Mr. Scott.”
[ Index ]
[P] [1] [2] [3 [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]