Chapter 7

It was after two in the morning and the campfire embers cast only a slight glow. Marfisi had fallen asleep around midnight. Bain was tasked with keeping watch, but the alleged guard had dozed off only a couple hours later.

Steve stayed awake plotting his escape, trying to anticipate any move or possibility that could occur. Thinking of the black sedan only several yards away, he wondered if it was unlocked or had the keys in the ignition. Assuming worst case, if he could take the car, he would have to break in and somehow jumpstart it.

The police academy taught prospective police officers about certain criminal acts, and the class on auto theft was always very popular. Steve remembered the three primary ways to start a car without keys. Mentally, he walked through the steps. The first way was to get under the hood and connect the red coil wire to the battery and then cross the terminal posts on the solenoid. With a broken wrist, little light and no time, that was too tall of an order.

Another method was to jumpstart the car by pulling out the wires behind the ignition, finding the right pair of wires, stripping them and touching them together until they ignite. Still a bit much, he thought, but something to keep in mind.

The easiest way, he thought, would be to jam something like a flathead screwdriver into the ignition and try to turn the engine over. In addition to a screwdriver, he would also need something to force the tool into the keyhole.

Steve sat back and thought where he could get the materials. He knew that the tent used lightweight metal piping to hold its shape. He attempted to tear the material of the tent in order to access the small rods. That effort failed.

Then it hit him: a tent is normally anchored by metal stakes. He felt around through the vinyl material at the back corner of the tent. He finally touched on one of the tent cords which was likely attached to a stake. Tugging on the unseen taut cord, he pulled until the line became slack and the stake was loose. He dragged the stake closer to the tent and then was able to feel through the material until he found its pointed edge. It took no time for him to work the stake through the vinyl material and pierce the back of the tent.

He examined his prize and was happy to find that the stake was about the size of a small flathead screwdriver. The implement would do for what he was attempting.

The next thing he wanted to do was find something he could use to jimmy the car lock. Thinking back to the metal piping that upheld the tent, he used his newly discovered spike to tear into back of the tent. He was able to break off some of the piping. While the back of the tent caved in, the front was still standing giving the appearance that the small structure was in one piece.

The young detective quietly pulled the zipper down on the tent and stuck his head out, waiting for either Bain or Marfisi to catch him. He was grateful that the pair decided not to tie him up. Given his condition, especially his broken wrist, any binding would have been painful. Steve figured that Marfisi and Bain considered his injury and being miles away from anywhere without shoes and proper outdoor clothing enough to keep him at bay.

Tender footed, he gingerly stepped out the tent, again thinking that if he was caught, he would simply say that he needed to relieve himself. He glanced over and saw the pair sleeping by the warm campfire. He nearly tripped over a large stone, but then realized the rock would come in handy. He stooped over to pick it up.

With his attention drawn to the black Datsun sedan, Steve carefully walked over to the driver's door and found the window cracked one quarter of the way down. While his arm wouldn't fit, he was able to twist the metal piping in such a way that he could hook the metal around the lock button. In no time, the door was unlocked.

He quietly opened the door, and then gave another quick check to his two captors. They had not stirred.

Slipping into the front seat, Steve kept the driver door open for fear of making an unwanted noise. There were no keys in the ignition, which was a disappointment, but not a surprise. He took a deep breath and stuck the tent stake into the keyhole. He then grabbed the stone he had picked up moments early. With a couple of swift hits, the stake was well into the ignition slot.

The sound of the stone hitting the steering column was enough to awaken Bain. "Hey!" he called out. Marfisi, too, began to stir.

No time was left, so Steve turned the metal stake as he would a key. The ignition turned over. The relieved young man put the car in gear, hit the gas and closed the front door.

Bain grabbed his gun and shot at the departing car. The first bullet hit the left taillight. The second bullet hit the rear window. Steve ducked out of reflex, but the bullet hit nowhere close to him.

After several seconds, he found the headlights and flipped them on. The dashboard lit up and he could see that the gas tank was half filled. That should get me somewhere.

Rudy joined Mike in the room Haseejian had booked next to Smith. It was very late and there was little more to be done that evening.

"Mike, you've been at it non-stop for two days now. Go home." Rudy suggested.

"Rudy, I'm fine. I can just take a nap over here," Mike said as he pointed to the bed in the room.

"Go home, take a hot shower and relax for a bit. Come back here in the morning."

"Rudy," Mike began, thinking that he'd give anything for Steve to be able to go home, take a hot shower and relax.

But Rudy interrupted Mike's protest. "I'm already down one detective. I don't need to lose another to a heart attack, Mike. Go home and get some rest. That's an order!"

"Fine. I'll go check on Smith and let him know I'll be back in the morning." Mike conceded.

As he opened the door to the adjoining room, he realized that the room was empty. "Smith? Smith?" he called out.

Haseejian walked in and joined Mike.

"Where is he?" Norm asked.

"How the hell do I know?" Mike snapped. "Where would you be if your son was being held for ransom and you were told to stay by the phone?"

"Um, by the phone," Norm answered logically.

"Any man worth his salt would be waiting here. Not this guy, though. Where do you suppose he is?" Mike asked.

"Searching for some action would be my guess," Norm answered again.

"If I get my hands on him, I swear he'll find himself in the middle of next week. Let's go check the local bars. He can't be far," Mike ordered.

The black sedan raced through the dark country roads. Steve had no idea where he was or where he was going, but figured that he would keep driving until he saw civilization or an interstate. Having been knocked unconscious and transported to a wooded area two days earlier, he had no recognition of his surroundings. The situation felt surreal to him.

To get himself back to reality, he turned on the car radio thinking that if he heard music or found a station that was familiar, he'd feel better. Dialing through the stations, nothing familiar struck him until he stumbled upon "Roadhouse Blues". That works, the young man thought. Not much better music to drive to than The Doors. He began to relax for the first time in two days and decided to crank the volume.

"You're listening to KYMT, music for Yosemite and the surrounding Mono Lake area."

Yosemite? You've got to be kidding me. Steve knew he wasn't in San Francisco, but was shocked to hear he was on the other side of the state.

Not paying attention to his speed or his surroundings, Steve soon saw a flashing red light behind him. Putting himself in the place of the approaching officer, he anticipated things would not go well. The music was blaring and he was twenty miles over the speed limit to begin with. Add to that the fact he had a tent stake sticking out of the ignition, was barefoot and in pajamas and driving a car that didn't belong to him without a license.

Oh, have I got some explaining to do.