Chapter 41. The Fire Bird to Ashes

There was no viable plan for Anna’s extraction in plan A. She laid it out and made for my escape but her part was sketchy at best. And Plan B had no extraction plan at all. I should have challenged her more vigorously on this point. However, one consolation to sanity was that Ralph was positioned outside the perimeter on the other side of the slough in both plans and that was enough to assure me that no matter how things turned out, he’d be okay. She assured me that she had it covered and I went along to get along. That is not a good attitude when going into battle. Oh, Anna, if only, if only. That was how it went down.

We were crossing the Rio Vista bridge when the first foreboding revealed its hand. Ralph’s 1974 Trans Am Firebird was a beast of a car. Anna and Ralph were in front and I was crammed in the back seat with my knees at my chin. Its rumble was worse than any Harley but, from the sound of its mill, you knew it could outpace any car on the streets in a sprint. Ralph was near giddy to be on a mission with us as he told us about every detail of his machine.

“This ain’t no regular Firebird. This babe’s gots a 455 SD with reinforced cylinder block, forged rods, high-flow cylinder head too. Shocks better than any NASCAR. They don’t make ‘em like this no more… emissions restrictions… fuckin’ California.”

Anna paid rapt attention to every detail and informed me of her appreciation, “It’s an art form, ya know. As much as painting or sculpture… the way these things are put together and improvised to perfection.”

I let them rattle on while I held his shotgun on my lap. I hadn’t a clue as to what he was talking about and knew as much about muscle cars as I did quantum physics. But I know guns and this pepper sprayer might be good enough while we were in the car but the mansion was going to be a hell of a challenge and required something as lethal but just a little quieter.

Anna adjusted the passenger side view mirror so that she could use it when we passed Rio Vista before the bridge. When Ralph noticed she’d done so, he protested, “Hey, don’t do that. I gotta watch fer stuff.”

“Ralph, you pay attention to the road ahead. I’m watching a motorcycle behind us ….”

“Uh, I didn’t see that.”

“I’ve had an eye on it since Rio Vista and the Isleton bridge. Take the Howard’s Landing junction and a right on Leary Road.” Anna’s monotone was calming… not a trace of panic.

“You wanna get to the Mansion, that ain’t the way.”

“Ralphie dammit,” Her drone took on a more sinister vibe, “Remember what I said about following orders?”

“You didn’t say anything about that.”

“I did just now.”

With that order of business out of the way the Firebird’s thrust was comparable to the space shuttle’s. Pressed to the back of the seat, the adrenaline of it gave me a similar rush as paragliding out of an airplane at night. No control. 

Sometimes I just trust the driver. It doesn’t take long before I knew the road was good to Ralph. He could drive that beast and, when our turn at the junction came, the bird stayed level in a drift flat around the turn as though hydroplaning on rubber and dry asphalt. The next right came up before he could slow but he managed the turn onto Leary Road.

Ralph was full of glee, “I told you I gots NASCAR racing shocks on this puppy better than anything the CHP has… better than a lot of shit!” 

"You already said that." 

Like any good driver, Ralph possessed professional humility. He gave credit to the machine before himself but he knew what he could handle, and handle it he did, without horsing it.

“Here!” Anna shouted pointing to a farm-vehicle dirt track with thick brush on both sides.

Gravel and dust flew and we full-brodied a 180 circle on the dirt and into that gap to a stop.

“This good enough fer ya?” Ralph grinned while idling into the bushes enough to remain unseen once the dust settled.

Anna took a deep breath… a sigh, “Whew! Perfect my man. I sorta knew you could handle this car.”

“Ma’am, this ain’t no car. This is a Fire Bird!”

The dust still hadn’t settled when the motor-cycle sped past us at about ninety and around the curve of the road out of sight. There was but little assurance we were hidden though a farm vehicle was turning the sod but, because of recent rains, not much dust arose from it.

“Well, let’s go back to Isleton and take the long way around. They’ll be expecting us sooner rather than later.”

I had nothing to say about the matter. She had it covered. All I had to do was wait for my orders and there wasn’t much I could do from where I sat.

Before the Isleton bridge Anna had Ralph stop, “Okay, Crash. This is where you get out.”

She leaned forward so that I could squeeze my cramped legs and the rest of my body out of the two-door’s back seat and with the door still open, I handed the shot-gun to Anna and checked her sketch of a map.

I was supposed to be dropped closer, “Looks like Plan B?” I said. A two-mile crawl in daylight. I couldn’t allow myself to be seen by anyone… an innocent farm worker or worse.

“Take cover and wait ‘til dusk. Your entry time is changed to twenty-two fifteen. Wait for Ralph’s call once inside the perimeter.” Anna was clearly in charge and I was to follow the time table. We knew the part each of us was to play in each plan and we knew what we had to do if one or two of us didn’t make it. Once the mission was accomplished we were on our own getting out. I’d memorized the map. It wasn’t hard to do and knew I would have to take a dip the last hundred yards in plan B.  There was no other way. Our first plan had me going around the perimeter staying dry but now I had to accept wet and cold.

The rice fields in the delta are flooded in the winter. It’s not like the Mekong… similar soil, but, when the temperature drops below fifty-eight the crop is ruined. So, it doesn’t get planted then. Principally, the fields are flooded to speed the decay of the straw left from the harvest. Decay does create a little heat and that causes steam to rise-up from the peat. It’s Tule fog when the winter water temp is warmer than the air. The rice field served as a moat of about a foot in depth. I counted on the fog for cover out of water and a little, not much but enough comfort while in it… I was trained to buck-up or fuck-up and that would be my only option. A fuck-up on a mission was never acceptable… no matter what. Every Ranger, every Navy Seal, ever Special Ops grunt, knows how to do this. Though I was certainly not any of those I had similar training along those lines.

At the twenty-hundred hour, I had two-hours and fifteen-minutes to close my part of the action and was already in the reeds before the mound that arose to the electrified fence. Just as Anna’s map for me showed, I could see up there where there was a gap between the security cameras and the guard posted at the South end of the perimeter. She was good. I trusted her with our lives now and could see the camera in one of the eucalyptus trees and the guard’s position. It wasn’t exactly a bunker… it was more of a concrete foxhole where the guard could see 360 degrees around and rise as if a ghost to any intruder. I too was a ghost and I could do the same… only better. Ralph’s night vision glasses were state of the art. Who says crime doesn’t pay. Ralph had to spend a nice wad from selling speed and pot to buy these.

I lay in wait. I managed to creep close enough to dig by hand and a K-Bar enough space to worm my way under the electrified fence. Time was getting close to 22:00. I had to make my move soon. I watched through the glasses, “C’mon fucker, do something stupid."

The guard stepped out of his mini-bunker to have a smoke. His lighter was as bright as a flare when he lit-up a cigarette. I don’t know which is worse, drinking while on watch, or smoking. I know the Bird Dog was adamant about it. This boy must be a one of the Dogs recruits that was still in training. No matter, that was my opening the door to the palace. A four-point crawl had me in place behind him and my belt at his throat before he finished his cigarette. I pulled him down into his pit and stripped him. Poor fucker had but one jail house tat on his shoulder. It was one of those little devils with Old English script saying, Born to Lose.

I felt as though I'd helped to fulfill his destiny by facilitating that which he was born to do. As an extra bonus, it was a good wardrobe change because the fit was perfect. 
I had fifteen minutes to get ready to breach the back door. This was going just a little too easy

~~~

Ralph and Anna

“Take no chances. Let’s go the long way around at the landing, Ralphie.”

A CHP motorcycle was waiting for them. Anna’s sixth sense knew this wasn’t a CHP. She tucked the shotgun between her door and the seat with a hand on its pistol grip.

The faux CHP dismounted and sauntered over to Ralphs side with the standard orders, “License and registration.”

Ralph hesitated.

She said, “Do it Ralph.”

“Where you two goin’?”

“Just tryin’ out the wheels… tune up and new plugs, ya’ know.”

The cop glanced at the license but it was obvious he already knew who he was dealing with, “Step out of the car, real slow, Mr. Montano. And you… don’t make a move.”

She murmured,“Gather your chi, it’s show time, pal.” 

 She wasn’t sure she wanted to kill a cop… that is, if the CHP was a cop. But when he reached behind and pulled a Mac-10 from his belt, her intuition was confirmed. The trick would’ve been to lift the shotgun fast enough to take him out before he sprayed them like a horney tom cat. It all depended on what Ralph would do. Breathe into the belly… gather chi… Ralph swung his door open with force and was almost on the CHP before the flash of the Mac-10’s muzzle put four rounds into the front of the car and under the hood.

Anna blasted birdshot between Ralph and the door into the faux cop’s face. It was art, Nijinsky couldn’t have danced Stravinsky’s Firebird with more precision as Ralph pounced on the already dead corpse of a cop in a pin.

“Good work my friend.”

Ralph’s motion froze. His eyes glued to what he saw in front of him. Then he puked into the hole that was once a face. Nothing but the part of the wire frame that hangs over the ears were where they were supposed to be. That was all that was left of the pilots’ glasses. The rest of them were gone where a hole replaced his eyes and nose and Ralph's chunks of Taco Bell from the night before. It testified that the cop was done with his karma in this lifetime. Checking all his pockets for ID to see if he might have been an off-duty CHP, she tapped Ralph on his shoulder to dismount and rolled the poor dead fool over.

Ralph stood back over him. “Who was he…and don’t tell me he’s a cop.”

“He’s not a cop. But wait.” She kicked him in the ribs. “Security.”

Ralph was entranced, “Fuckin’-A, man. I bet this dude’s from the mansion. What do we do? You killed that fucker. Shit, I never killed nobody.”

She paused a minute, “Bird Dog could be on anyone’s side.” She grabbed the CHP helmet that was laying off to the side, “I think he’s Smerdyakov’s security. What do you say you strip off those duds, Rafael? You might as well look important where you go. I’ll drop you at your post. Go down out of sight. Know what I mean? Watch me from there. I’ll drive past the gate and turn off the ignition… a damsel in distress like the car broke down…. 22:15 Crash will call. Give him an A-Okay, if, I’m past the gate. If not, Abort. I’ll be on the move then. Let me know if I’m followed. I won’t answer, don’t worry unless I do. Then get the fuck out if you can… Salsipuedes campanero.”

There was a whoooosh! The Mac-10 spray must have dislodged a fuel line over the manifold.

"Aw shit... my car! This crap is burning up!"

"We have the bike. C'mon Ralph. Forget the car." 

The damnedest things come to one's head in a panic. Ralph was in shock, “Man, shit, that’s big trouble to impersonate an officer. I know, remember, I worked in the prison.”

“Ralph," Anna grabbed him by both shoulders and shook hard, "Listen to me. The trouble we can get into with the law is nothing compared to the shit we stepped-in today. It doesn’t matter if this fucker is Baker’s or Smerdyakov’s. Got it. We take the bike now or we're both dead." 

The reality sank in and it was no longer just an adventure. Ralph agreed, "Ashes to Ashes, man, I don't wanna see that happen either."