Chapter 36
Trading Places
Tim drove the almost four-hour drive back to Louisville with Raylan stretched out in the backseat with his foot elevated and Ellstin in the passenger seat, almost an hour away. The sun had set hours before.
"You have any experience with firearms, Mr. Limehouse?" Tim asked.
"Naw. I prefers knives," Ellstin sneered at the younger marshal.
"I can personally attest to that," Raylan dryly chimed in from behind them, referring to the incident where Robert Quarles lost his arm. "Though I understand the reasonin' behind Marshal Gutterson's question. It's kinda difficult to conceal a machete."
Ellstin chuckled. "Yeah, I s'pose it is."
"So, arming you is not an option," Tim surmised.
Ellstin raised an eyebrow. "Good thing Marshal Givens is such a good shot."
"Ya' think I'm a good shot? Ya' oughtta see Marshal Sniper, here." Raylan chuckled.
"So, I heard," Ellstin chimed in.
Nothing ever gets past this guy, Raylan thought to himself.
"Any ideas how we're get Anna out of there?" Tim asked, laser focused on their mission.
"I think we don't go in until they let her go," Raylan answered. "Let 'em take me first. They've already had me. Then, make 'em let her go before Ellstin goes in."
"And then what?" Ellstin asked with concern.
"Yeah, there are no windows," Tim huffed, frustrated.
"We'll think of somethin'," Raylan said with more confidence than he felt.
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o
Finished with her dinner, Anna sat, grateful for the solitude. If these were the last hours of her life, being alone was better than being observed and insulted by Arndt and his henchmen. Arndt was cold and Frank was especially vindictive and mean. Cannon was their lap dog. But there was something about Jase that bugged her, other than the fact that he was another white-supremacist asshole. The way he looked at her made her nervous. The gaze of Arndt and the others was always laced with disgust, she could handle that, but Jase . . . something was off. It bothered her that she couldn't put her finger on it.
Racism had always been a fact of life. She had learned that some people were not worth worrying about, and their opinions didn't affect her. Her mother had informed her at an early age that she was adopted and biracial, but because of her appearance and her adoptive family, she had always identified as black. Because of her mother's teaching jobs in the suburbs, she went to mostly white schools. But she was smart, and pretty, and popular, for the most part. When she dated white boys, she got more resistance from her own father than from any of their parents.
Racism went both ways.
She sighed. Her father had known all along she was half white, and yet, he wanted her to reject that part of herself. Now, these men saw her as black, when in reality, she was one set of genomes away from being as white as they were.
The door opened, and Jase came in with the handcuffs. Without a word, he slipped them on, fastening her arms in front of her. He didn't tighten them as much as Frank had. She found herself hoping that he didn't expect anything in return for the somewhat preferential treatment.
This time, Jase was alone. His shadow, Cannon, was nowhere to be seen. He led her down a short corridor and into a room that had a small bed with a pillow and a blanket. There was a bottle of water on the nearby nightstand. Like the other two room she had been in, this one was clean, sterile. And once again, there were no windows and no other doors, yet had the same kind of camera lens in one of the corners.
"Do ya' need to use the restroom again?" Jase asked her.
"No," she shook her head.
"Then, try and get some sleep," Jase said, staring at her with steely eyes. He reached over and turned on the lamp next to the bed that had about the same illumination as a night light.
Anna stood on the other side of the bed, praying he would leave the room. Finally, he did, closing the door behind him. She let out a huge sigh of relief and took a seat on the corner of the bed, exhausted, but afraid to go to sleep.
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-
Winona picked up the phone on the first ring. "Raylan? Is it over?"
"No. It's just beginnin'. Look. Before I go." He talked fast, worried that she might hang up.
"When I came back from the MRI, you weren't there. Are ya' really mad at me? Again?"
"I don't know what I am. I'm just . . . "
"Winona. I'm not in Harlan." He was telling the truth. He was back in Louisville and on his way to Leitchfield; he was no longer in Harlan County.
"You're not?"
"No. And I'm gonna go and get Anna. Just tell me you're not mad at me."
She softened. "I'm not mad at you."
"I love you. And I love Willa, too. And I love any more of the Givens clan in our future."
There was a beat of silence and Winona said. "We love you, too." She took a deep breath.
"Call me as soon as you have Anna. Adam is about at the end of his rope."
"I bet he is. I will."
"And Raylan?"
"Yeah?"
"I know you can't tell me anything, but why is Rachel here? Are we in some kind of danger?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "It's just a precaution, okay? Don't worry."
"If you say so." She sounded doubtful.
"You're safe. You and Willa, Adam, too." He blew out a breath. "I'll call ya' as soon as I can. Okay?"
"Okay. Cowboy."
Winona disconnected the call and started to say something to Adam, but she locked eyes with Rachel instead.
Rachel's jaw was set firm. "I respect the privacy of your phone call. I'm just going to the restroom and wash up for the night." And she walked away to give the two some privacy.
Winona walked across the family room, closer to Adam. "You heard my cryptic, one-sided conversation with Raylan?"
"Yeah," Adam nodded, hanging onto her every word.
Keeping her voice down low, she said, "All I got out of him is that they're not in Harlan."
"That's good news, isn't it?" he asked, grabbing at straws.
"Yeah," she smiled weakly and said, though she sounded unconvinced. "That is good news."
If it's such good news, then why don't I feel any better? Winona thought to herself.
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o
Weston and Goodall assembled their team back at the motel in Elizabethtown to go over last minute preparations.
"All we need is the word from you, Raylan, and we pull the plug on this whole thing," Weston reiterated. "We can hear what's going on inside. We need for you to choose a word, to signal to us, that the whole thing has gone south. What do you want the word to be?"
"How about . . . moonshine," he answered.
"Alright. Moonshine it is," Weston reiterated. "The kidnapping of a Federal office is more than we need to put that son-of-a-bitch away for a long, long time."
"Here's the warrant," Karen said, handing it to Raylan who then slipped it inside his jacket pocket. "Are you going in with a backup weapon?" She was getting that uneasy feeling again that she got whenever Raylan was in jeopardy.
"I'm not losin' my guns to the likes of them," Raylan insisted. "I see no point to me bein' armed once I go inside, so I'll leave my weapons outside with you, before I go in," he said to Tim. "They'd only use 'em against me."
"I can cover you until you go inside," Tim said with confidence.
"You could carry a combat knife in your boot," Art suggested, holding one out for him.
"Now, you is talkin'," Ellstin grinned.
"I coulda stowed away two knives away if my other foot wasn't in this damn thing," he swore at the clumsy looking walking cast that hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. When is foot was down, it swelled. And when it swelled, it hurt. He took the knife and sheath from his boss and stuffed it down inside the upper of his boot.
"You want one?" Art asked Limehouse.
"Sure," Ellstin answered and stuffed it down into his boot as well. It was a good thing he was ambidextrous. He could swing a knife with either hand. "It's almosts like you all is makin' me a deputy."
Art said, "In a way, we are deputizing you."
"Well, well. How's 'bout that, Marshal Givens?" Ellstin grinned. "We is on the same side of the law."
"Except we're not," Raylan countered. "No offense, but you've got a long standin' family feud with Leon Arndt. If you even try to use this rescue operation as an opportunity for you to take out Arndt? I'll have no choice but to go after you. The Federal government wants Arndt alive. Understand?" Raylan was still trying to figure out what made Ellstin agree to do this. What would be in it for him was close proximity to a long hated enemy."
"Why, Marshal. I think I's offended," Ellstin answers him, yet plays as if he is.
"But ya' do catch my drift?" Raylan tried again.
"Yessir. I does." He could tell the marshal was tense about what was going to transpire and in no mood for his cleverness.
"You ready?" Art asked Tim and Raylan.
With his lips pressed into a thin line, Raylan answered, "As ready as I'm ever gonna be."
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o
"Time to wake up," Jase said.
Anna almost jumped out of her skin when she opened her eyes to find this guy standing above her, alone. She must have dozed off, as she found herself lying on top of the blanket. Disoriented from being imprisoned in rooms with no windows and no clocks, she had no idea what time it was. He very well could be there to lead her to her death.
"They're ready to make the trade," her captor continued.
She prayed he was telling the truth. But she also knew it was highly unlikely Raylan could pull off Arndt's ridiculous demand. Her feet swung onto the floor as she sat up. Jase grabbed her by the handcuffs and pulled her up to her feet.
He led her out of the room and down the same corridor she was led from the night before. When she finally entered a great room, the entire cast of criminal characters was there, checking their weapons. There were even a couple of new ones there she didn't know.
"Seems your brother came through for you, after all," Arndt explained, sounding rather pleased with himself. "He should be here in a few minutes, ready to make the exchange. Sounds like you'll be home in time for lunch . . . so long as you play your cards right and don't cause us any trouble."
"Yeah, we're tradin' your scrawny ass for an even bigger nigger," Frank added with a chuckle.
As much as Anna hated Arndt and everything he stood for, she hated this guy, Frank, most of all. He was a hundred percent pure hatred.
Arndt shocked her even more when he returned her wallet. Although empty of all cash, her credit cards and driver's license were intact. He also returned her handbag, keys, and even her phone to her. And last of all, he returned her service weapon, empty of all ammo. With her hands still cuffed, she placed her gun, wallet, and keys back inside her handbag. It was only then when she would allow herself to believe that she really may be traded, rescued, freed.
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o
Tim, Raylan, Limehouse, and Art pulled up in Art's rig, near the front of Arndt's compound, with Weston and Goodall in a car behind them. Within seconds of their arrival, a local squad car arrived.
"Shit," Art exclaimed, looking in his rearview mirror. "The locals are here to muck up the works." He exited his vehicle and approached the local yahoos.
"Might I ask what you're doin' in our fair city?" the local Chief of Police asked the Chief Deputy Marshal.
"If you don't already know, which I highly doubt," Art began, "we're here to serve a Federal warrant to one Leon Arndt." Art looked back. "Raylan? You got that warrant handy?"
Climbing out of the rig on his crutches, he pulled the warrant out of his jacket and passed it to Tim, who passed it to Art. Art then handed it to the Leitchfield Chief of Police and watched the man's face not change its irritated expression as he read it.
"Well, I can't let you do that," the Police Chief said, handing the warrant back to Art. "You see, you folks are in the sovereign city of Leitchfield, Kentucky. We don't recognize the Federal government." Another police officer exited the other side of the squad car, his hand placed on the handle of his service revolver.
Art chuckled. "There's two of you, and all of us. And more just down the road."
Karen Goodall exited her car. "Police Chief Collins, right?" she asked. "Bill Collins? It is you who has no standing in this matter. You and your officer need to stand down now, or you'll both be arrested and charged with obstruction of justice."
Just as the Police Chief was about to open his mouth to spew more bullshit, Weston emerged from the vehicle with his service weapon drawn. Tim quickly covered him by aiming at the other officer with his assault rifle. "Chief Deputy Marshal Mullins?" Weston asked, "Would you please handcuff Police Chief Collins and his officer and secure them inside their squad car?"
Art smirked. "It'd be my pleasure, Agent Weston." He first cuffed Collins. "It's a bitch for law enforcement ever since Homeland Security was created, isn't it?" Art joked with the local Chief, as he covered the man's head and lowered him into the backseat of his own cruiser. He then did the same with the other officer, securing one of each of their cuffs to the wire cage divider that separated the front cab area of the cruiser from the backseat. Next, he grabbed the keys out of the car's ignition, shut down the radio, and locked them inside their car.
"Alright," Weston said with the problem solved. "Raylan? Are you ready?"
"Yeah," he said, leaning against Art's rig to take the weight off his leg. He pulled out his cell and called Arndt. "We're here."
After he disconnected the call, he and Limehouse began the walk into the compound. Tim had secured himself up in a tree across the street to give him a full vantage point and view into the front door. He set his aim and remained on the ready.
Hobbling on the crutches, Raylan, and Limehouse with is harm still in a sling, looked like a pitiful pair. As they came closer to the front door, it finally opened with Anna being held in front, as a human shield. Jase had her, and Cannon followed him outside, both armed and brandishing their weapons.
As the parties approached one another, Raylan asked Anna, "You alright?"
She nodded. It took everything she had in her not to tear up. She had never been so glad to see anyone in her whole life, as she was to see Raylan.
Cannon grabbed Limehouse by crook of his arm at the same time Jase pushed Anna forward, away from him.
"Go Anna," Raylan said firmly. "Run."
Tim covered them from the tree. His trigger finger was becoming itchy. Anna ran forward and did not look back. As she approached closer to the road, she stumbled. Art ran out and grabbed her and helped inside of the back of Weston's car, where he finally removed the handcuffs.
Cannon began to drag Limehouse inside the bunker, and Raylan followed behind.
"Whoa. Where do you think you're going?" Jase asked, preventing him from entering.
"Limehouse isn't goin' in without me," Raylan answered. "That was part of the deal I made with him."
"Well, that's not part of the deal you made with Arndt," Jase corrected the Marshal.
"If I don't go inside, neither does Ellstin," Raylan countered. "It's as simple as that."
Jase raised his weapon. "I don't see that you're in any position to argue."
At that instant, a high speed bullet came whizzing from the tree and sliced through Cannon's head. The bigger man dropped to the ground. In reaction, Raylan pushed Ellstin through the door and inside the bunker, and Jase ran in behind them. The door closed.
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o
Karen Goodall slid into the backseat to sit with Anna, visually conducting a physical inspection of her injuries. She handed the battered agent bottle of water. "Are you okay?"
Anna screwed off the top of the bottle and chugged its contents. It was the first clean water she'd had in days. "I will be okay," she finally answered. She leaned her head back against the headrest. Her eyes closed for a moment to help her gain her composure. The last thing she wanted to do was to cry in front of 'The Bitch' who was suddenly being nice.
"I'm sorry it got so rough in there," Karen said. "Jase tried to look after you as best he could."
Anna's eyes popped open in surprise.
"Yeah, he's one of yours," Karen nodded. "Deep under cover. You can't say anything. I only just found out myself, thanks to Weston."
"I won't," Anna acknowledged, her doubts of the man suddenly making a whole lot more sense.
Karen uncharacteristically placed her hand on Anna's arm. "You can text that fiancée of yours now, and let him know you're safe, and you'll see him soon. But don't say anything more until we get all the hostages out of there. Okay?"
"Okay," Anna nodded. "By the way. How did Raylan get Limehouse to agree to go in there? I never saw that one coming."
"I don't know," Karen answered. "The hatred between those two families much run very deep. That's all I can come up with."
"Yeah," Anna said. Her adrenaline crashing, growing weary, she changed the subject. "I think I'll text Adam now."
"You do that," Karen patted her arm. "Then, feel free to stretch out back here and get some rest." She even handed Anna a folded blanket, along with a couple of packages of cheese and crackers, donations from Tim's Go Bag. "We'll get you to a hospital to be checked out just as soon as things stabilize here."
Karen moved back up to the front seat. Anna pulled out her cell. The battery was very low. No matter, she just wanted to send off a text.
This has to be quick I'm safe. Will see you as soon as I can.
A minute later, she received a text from Adam. Anna? Is that really you?
She texted back. Yes. Can't wait til we can share a Malbec. I love you so much.
A minute later, she received a reply. Thank God. I love you so much, too.
She turned the phone off. As much as she wanted, needed to stay awake to find out what happened to Raylan, her adrenaline rush left her high and dry and she couldn't. She made it as far as to unfold the blanket half way. Tucked over her arms and around her neck, she leaned into the corner of the car and fell into a deep sleep.
(To be continued . . .)