Chapter Five: On Turnabouts and Fair Play
Three trucks rolled out of the barn, paint gleaming despite the day and two nights they'd spent inside the dusty building. Zach Callaghan stood with the farmer and his wife, a red handprint across his face – a parting gift from Jules when he'd tried to get her to stay behind and let her teammates handle rescuing Roy and Giles.
Farmer Hodgkin glanced at the former cop, shaking his head. "I told you she'd be a troublemaker," he chided. "Too much of her mother in her."
Callaghan looked away. "No," he admitted. "Too much of me in her." If it had been one of his teammates on the line, he'd have done worse than the slap.
The stout man chuckled, slapping his former neighbor's back. "She's a good 'un, that's for sure. She'll be fine."
"I hope so." Callaghan watched the three trucks roar onto the main road, turning towards Lyndhurst Flats. No lights or sirens yet, but they would come. "Stay safe, Julie," he whispered.
"Spike, let us know when we're a kilometer out," Wordy ordered. "Guys, lights and sirens on Spike's word."
Acknowledgements rolled in, every member of the team on target and alert. The team leader stepped down on the gas as the truck in front of him accelerated, his Sergeant's worry and impatience getting the better of him.
The brunet nodded to himself, holding the vehicle steady as it raced down the road. They were as ready as they could be. Silently, just in his own head, the constable prayed they'd get Roy and Giles back safely. They'd already lost Sarge. They couldn't lose anyone else.
As dawn peeked through the windows, Roy felt someone prod his shoulder. "Five more minutes," he mumbled into his pillow, shifting to pull the blankets over his head.
"Roy." A low hiss. "It's time."
Time for what? With a groan, the detective started to roll over, only for someone to catch him and physically hold him still.
"Whoa, partner, don't fall off the bed!"
Fall off the… Roy froze. "I'm awake," he yelped, rolling back the other way, towards the wall. "I'm awake." Even with his back against the wall, it still took another minute to knuckle the last of the sleep out of his eyes and finish waking up. Mumbling under his breath, he squirmed out from under the sheets and slithered off the bunk bed. Once down, he cast Giles the evil eye. "What is this," he complained. "Oh-dark-thirty?"
"Pink and Shep said we gotta make our move before breakfast," the Auror explained. "After breakfast, everyone gets kicked to work details."
"Oh joy," Roy moaned. An escape plan with no breakfast, how very delightful. "This prison riot had better be worth it." He spared a moment to scrub his hands through his hair, then straightened. "Okay, let's do it."
His partner smirked, then adjusted his position to stand even more in front of Roy. Shielded by both their bodies, he pulled his wand and set off his chain of spells.
On the opposite side of the prison, a row of cell doors opened. Their occupants stared at the open doors in confusion for a few seconds, then scrambled forward to freedom. The lone guard patrolling the area took one look at the escaping horde and legged it to one of the master gates. Unfortunately, no sooner had he slammed the gate behind him when it clicked open and refused to lock again. While he was still attempting to force the gate to lock, several inmates reached the gate and slammed it open. The guard tried to run, only to fall under the shouts and fists of the escaped inmates. Behind them, the other inmates, now out of their cells and with no guards present to restrain them, launched into fistfights with each other and started plotting how best to avoid recapture. More than a few also hastened towards other areas of the prison to settle a number of old grudges.
The guards in the prison's central control room watched in horror as the scene was repeated all across the prison. When the biggest guards attempted to leave the room and assist their fellow guards, they discovered that someone had locked the door. As they struggled to get the door open, the PA system came online and started playing Dean Martin's "Ain't That A Kick In The Head". Several guards, recognizing the thinly veiled reference, started fighting even harder to get out.
"Okay, let's move," Roy ordered as the cells in their wing clicked open. He paused long enough to glare at Pink and Shep. "No fistfights."
"We ain't that stupid," Shep protested, but Pink and the two detectives ignored him in favor of hustling towards the closest exit.
Roy made sure to lag just behind his partner, doing his best to keep the two inmates from seeing his partner magically unlock every last door in their path. Not a single guard crossed their path, all of them far too preoccupied with the budding riot on their hands. As they approached the complex's outer wall, Roy scanned it frantically for another door. "There!" he called, pointing to their right.
"Got it!" Giles called back, adjusting his direction. In five strides, he reached the door, his wand tapping the lock one last time. By the time Roy, Pink, and Shep caught up, the Auror had thrust the door open. "Keys!" he snapped.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Roy retorted, but Shep had already tossed them. Before the detective could snatch the keys from the wizard without a driver's license, a shout came from behind them.
"Time to go," Pink yelled, scrambling for the truck with Shep on his heels.
Giles swung up into the driver's seat, turning the key, then he glanced at Roy. "Light the fuse."
In spite of himself, Roy grinned; he reached down, pulling a thin piece of wood out. Then he snapped it, smirking as the snap heralded a low hissing noise that quickly dissipated as the flame raced away. In two minutes, it was going to get very loud. Dropping the broken spell key, Roy ran forward, performing a near perfect slide across the hood of the truck before landing and spinning to end up in the passenger side.
As soon as the door closed, Giles slammed down on the accelerator, peeling out. Roy's grin dropped off his face. Giles was driving. Giles. Was. Driving. "Hey partner?" Roy called. "You, ah, you never did take me up on my offer."
Pink started to leer, then froze as Roy's fearful, uncertain tone registered. "What offer?"
Roy gulped and double-checked his seat belt. "My offer to teach him how to drive."
"One kilometer," Spike called, already reaching forward to snap on the lights and siren for his and Sam's truck. In the trucks ahead of them, Lou and Jules did the same. Ed slammed down on his accelerator, a snarl curling his lip. On his heels, Wordy and Sam sped up, matching their livid Sergeant's pace with ease. It was time for the locals to find out why you didn't kidnap people off the street and throw them in prison, just because they were inconvenient.
Sheriff Ted Wallace didn't bother holding back his ire as he slammed through his office door, yelling for Saunders. He should've known. Cops, the both of them. Big city cops, sniffing around right after that idiot Reston had finally outlived his usefulness. And, if his informant was to be believed, big brother was one of the elite cops. SRU, Toronto's much touted cavalry.
"Sheriff? Somethin' wrong?" Saunders questioned, hustling to keep up with his boss.
"Those two drunks, you idiot. They're cops. How in tarnation did you miss that, numbskull?"
Saunders gawped. "Cops? They ain't said nothing 'bout being no cops, Sheriff."
Wallace thrust the printout in his hand into his deputy's chest. "I wonder why that was," he snarled. "Get going, numbskull. We got a riot at the prison."
"Riot?"
The sheriff whacked his subordinate. "Prison, now. I'm calling in reinforcements from Sinclair."
"Yessir."
As soon as the lout was gone, Wallace was on the phone. Prison riot, less than a day after stashing those two cops there. Coincidence? Not a chance. He had no idea how those two had pulled it off and he didn't care. When he got his hands on them…
"Ted?" the man on the other end asked, breathless.
"What?"
"Those guys you just sent us yesterday? They broke out, took Pink and Shep with 'em."
Wallace swore. Those two cops were gonna pay for this. "I'm on my way," he barked.
Having finished the first song, the prison PA cheerfully launched into the Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol theme song, drawing raucous cheers from inmates and groans of dread from guards familiar with the movie. A hissing noise accompanied the song, though it was curiously louder in certain areas of the prison. As the song continued, the hissing crisscrossed the prison complex, always just out of view as it traveled.
Inside the main guard room, the educated guards forced their less pop-culture astute colleagues under tables and chairs, desperate for whatever cover they could get. One guard even seized the phone and dragged it with him into cover, insisting that the prison was about to blow up to the bewildered Sinclair cop on the other end.
The song drew to an end with its customary flare, the hiss growing louder as well. Two beats before the end, the hiss went out. Right as the last triumphant chord echoed through the prison, the floor shook, trembling in the force of an explosion from below. Though a number of items, including coffee cups and a coffee pot that had been left just a little too close to the edge of a counter, fell to the ground with a thunderous crash, the prison itself was untouched. Indeed, quite curiously, though the guards still on their feet rocked, every single inmate not in their cell was thrown to the ground. In the time it took them to recover, the prison gates somehow reset on their own and clicked shut, as securely locked as they had been before either song played. The lone exceptions were those gates right near battered, trapped prison guards. They remained open until the guards managed to stumble through them – then they clicked shut, just as secure as the rest of the prison.
Sirens wailed from behind the dilapidated old truck they'd stolen. Why, Roy wondered, had Shep ever thought this piece of junk was worth stealing, much less worthy of an escape attempt? It had to be at least thirty years old! The detective checked the side mirror and shook his head in amazement; the cars chasing them were just as old! Some of them didn't even have light bars, just a simple rotating light that plugged into a cigarette lighter. A gleam caught his eye and he ducked down, hauling Pink with him; Pink, no fool, grabbed Shep and dragged him down as well. "Giles! Rifles!"
A ricochet off the truck's tailgate reinforced the assertion.
"What do I do?" the Auror demanded; Roy stared at him. He didn't even know how to drive, much less how to tactically evade gunfire.
"Get us out of here!" Shep yelled.
The truck's ancient engine let out a throaty roar as the wizard slammed the accelerator to the floor. A sharp turn to the right took them out of the line of fire – for a few seconds – but Giles nearly lost control as he jerked the wheel back the other way.
"Oy! Slow is smooth…"
"Smooth is fast," Giles replied, even as he struggled to keep the out-of-control vehicle upright.
"Fast is lethal," Roy finished. "See if you can lose them in a field or something."
"Copy."
"Whoa…" Lou muttered. "Guys, I think I found one of their radio channels."
"Lou, what do we got?" Ed barked.
"Prison riot."
For a second, Team One gawped at each other, dumbfounded. "A prison riot?" Jules asked.
"Listen to this," Lou replied, playing a snippet from what he'd been able to pick up.
Spike sniggered. "Mission Impossible…"
"…Ghost Protocol," Lou finished. "We got four escapees, too."
"Four?" Sam echoed. "Who're the other two?"
"No idea," the less-lethal specialist admitted. "They're calling in all the cops from Sinclair and Lyndhurst Flats, though. Sounds like our sheriff is really mad about something."
In the lead truck, Ed's eyes narrowed. "Okay, team, new deal. Spike, Sam, keep heading for the Flats. Search that station, find their phones. Anyone tries to stop you, arrest 'em; we'll sort it all out afterwards."
"Copy," Sam acknowledged.
"Lou, you got us a direction for this chase?"
"Northwest, Ed. Sounds like they're off the main road, though."
"Where'd they end up?" Jules questioned.
"Not sure. Vineyard, maybe. Whatever it is, the rows are big enough for a truck."
"Okay, okay," Ed interjected. "Lou? Can you get us two angles?"
For a minute, the tech worked at his equipment, tension humming. Then, "Sorry, Ed, best I can tell, one way in, one way out. We can pin 'em down though."
"Ed," Wordy broke in. "You and Jules go in; Lou and I will block the field and keep anyone from escaping."
The Sergeant considered, then nodded once. "Copy that, Wordy. Sam, Spike, keep in touch."
"Copy," Spike replied.
For an instant, the words wouldn't come. They were his words. But…but he couldn't spend the rest of his life grieving; he wouldn't want that. "Let's keep the peace."
With that, the caravan split, the sirens seeming to wail even louder as that reminder of their fallen boss and friend echoed.
"Giles. I think you'd better stop."
"Why?"
"I don't think we're gonna make it over that."
"We'll make it."
"Giles! This is not a broom!"
"Trust me."
"Giles… Giles! Giles Carth Onasi, I am going to kill you!"
The prison guards gawped as the battered old truck roared up a makeshift wooden ramp, taking flight over the fence separating one field from another. Screams echoed from the truck as it flew, landing with a heavy crunch before soldiering on, seemingly unconcerned with its blatant violations of the law of physics and common sense. The closest pursuing sedan skidded as its driver slammed on the brakes. The second car rammed into the first one, sending them both sliding into the ramp where they came to a rest, smoke rising from crumpled hoods and one tire spinning as it dangled over the drop between the broken fence and the ditch below.
Deputy Rex Saunders gazed down at the phones in his hands, a trifle unhappy that he couldn't keep one of them. They were really nice phones, but the sheriff was too angry at him to risk bucking his orders. Well, soon enough, they'd be broken bits of electronic plastic and he could pretend they hadn't been worth keeping anyway.
As he headed towards the front door of the station, fully planning on dumping the phones in some random farmer's field, the door was thrust open, two uniformed cops entering. The lead cop, a blond, spotted him and the phones. In the blink of an eye, he pulled his sidearm. "Police Strategic Response Unit, stay where you are!"
One of Saunders' fellow deputies went for his own gun, only to freeze as the second strange cop drew down on him. "We're looking for Detectives Roy Lane and Giles Onasi," the raven-haired officer announced.
Dagnabbit. Those two drunks really were cops.
Once the two Team One trucks reached their destination – which proved to be an orchard – the Toronto cops swung into action. Wordy and Lou blocked the orchard's exit and started arresting the prison guards and local cops on foot while Ed and Jules made their way through the orchard, following a trail of upturned dirt and damaged trees. The brunette eyed the damage, wondering what in the world Roy was doing – surely he knew how to drive better than this. Along the way, the pair found a dirt road between the orchard they were in and another one. Fresh tire tracks told the officers that the escaping inmates and their pursuers had gotten away.
"We got a hole," Ed reported. "Get in here, guys."
"Copy," Lou acknowledged. "New transmission, Boss. They caught those other two inmates."
"Roy and Giles are still loose?" Wordy asked.
"Yeah," the constable confirmed. "They're callin' the two they got Pink and Shep. But there's something else, Ed."
"What?"
"They found the truck, too. Roy 'n' Giles are on foot."
Author note: For reasons that will become apparent, when I post the next chapter (which will be posted Friday, November 27th 2020), I will also be moving the story from the main Flashpoint archive to the Flashpoint/Knight Rider archive.