CHAPTER 22
The man exited the plane feeling fresh and ready to get right to work. The flight from LAX to Salt Lake City took less than two hours and he’d flown first class. He made his way through the concourse to the baggage pickup. Although he wasn’t planning to stay in Utah long, there were things he needed for this trip that he couldn’t fit into a carry-on. He rented a luggage cart and grabbed his two large suitcases off of the belt. He checked his watch. It was past ten in the evening. He had a rental car and hotel already reserved. He would spend the night in the city and then make his way to Blue Creek the next evening. Nightfall was supposed to be before 5:30 that evening and he would use the darkness to help him slip into town unnoticed.
When he got to his hotel room he pulled out his iPhone and texted his old friend Patton.
“Here. ETA 1900 tomorrow.”
He flipped the TV on for the noise, laid back and closed his eyes. This was far from his first time in a hotel room the night before a mission. His phone buzzed. He opened it to find a return text from Patton.
“Roger,” is all it read.
He set the phone on the nightstand and laid back again. He tried to focus his mind on what he had to do the next night. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d done this so many times he’d lost count. While he would usually charge tens of thousands of dollars for his services, he offered his friend to do this one for free. It would be his pleasure.
Travis was taking the night off. No Asher. No Anna. No Charlie. Now that the election was over, he just wanted to spend time with his friends at his favorite bar, get drunk, get high, and maybe get laid. His night was on track. One of his friends had brought some primo weed to their little party and he’d drunk more than he had in months. The girl he’d been set up with seemed to be into him, so he was beginning to feel like all of his goals were going to be met.
“Hey dude,” he said to his friend, “you got any more papers?”
Travis’s friend shook his head no. Feigning anger at his friend, Travis stood and said, “I’ve got some in my car. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Travis exited the bar, fumbling in his pants pocket for his car keys. The weather had recently warmed some, so the street was slushy rather than icy. He reached his vehicle and was finally able to pull out his car keys. While fumbling to unlock his car, he didn’t notice the large twelve-passenger van pull up beside him. Had he been fully aware of his surroundings, he probably wouldn’t have felt the tiny pinprick on his back. Either way, four strong hands pulled him into the van.
Travis woke to find two angry faces leering over him. He felt both groggy and nauseous. Whatever happened to him, the effects were still lingering. He tried to bring events into focus but his thoughts remained blurry. Even these people’s voices, whoever the hell they were, sounded as if they were under water. His “Where am I?” and “Who are you?” questions came out as mush-mouthed nonsense.
One of the figures moved out of his field of vision and then he could feel a tiny stinging sensation in his arm. Suddenly he felt himself becoming more awake and aware and he saw that Patton Larsen was standing in front of him. Not smiling. Not angry. Just lingering there, hovering over him like a ghost. When Travis tried to speak his mouth actually worked.
“What’s going on?” he asked, still somewhat groggy.
No answer.
He heard a small whirring sound, like a small motor working. Then he could feel himself being raised up. Patton moved his head and now there was a bright light shining directly into his eyes. He tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes but straps held his hands down to some sort of gurney. He tried to kick his feet but the result was the same. He was completely incapacitated.
“Hey!” he screamed. “What’s going on here!” he yelled, both angry and frightened now.
Still no answer. He sensed some movement behind him and then felt another prick in his arm. His world went black again.
When he woke up again, he noticed that an IV had been started on his left wrist, which was still restrained. He tried to move his head to look around but the movement made him nauseous. He wanted to throw up, but instead, he closed his eyes and went still. Travis, who was usually a very calm individual, wanted to kick and punch and claw his way out, but there was no way. The feeling of helplessness caused a wave of fear to come upon him.
“Okay guys, I’ll stay calm I promise. Just tell me what’s going on!”
There was silence for a moment, but then he heard Patton’s voice.
“You’re being taken out of the game, Travis,” Patton said coldly. “We know you’ve been acting as Charlie Henry’s go between. You’ve gotten away with it until now but those days are over. You’re done.”
“What are you talking about?” Travis asked stupidly.
Patton moved around the chair so Travis could see him. He leaned in close, leering at him viciously.
“What I’m talking about is that you’re the little cockroach that’s been helping Charlie and his little whore and Asher. Don’t play stupid or we’re going to make your life a living hell.”
Travis felt a pang of nervousness, but he tried to regain his bravado. “You can’t do anything to me,” he said, more calmly than he felt.
Patton scoffed and looked at the other man, who was also coming into Travis’s field of view. He was a big man. Not fat, but with huge arms and shoulders. He looked like a bodybuilder. The man was also wearing a baseball cap. A large, bushy beard covered most of his face. He was holding something in his hands, but Travis was still too groggy and too nervous to focus.
“We already have, Travis,” the man said in a soft voice that contrasted greatly with his appearance. “We’ve done something to you that can’t be taken back.” The man turned behind him and grabbed something. He turned back and thrust his hand into Travis’s face. At first Travis couldn’t see it because it was very small, but his eyes finally focused onto a little brown ball, about half the size of a bb.
“See this?” the man asked. “You now have one of these in your brain. This tiny little thing, believe it or not, is an explosive device that can be controlled by this.” He showed Travis his other hand, which held a sleek cellphone.
Travis shook his head defiantly. Part of him knew these guys were serious. They wouldn’t have him here as a joke. Travis closed his eyes again and swallowed hard. He had cottonmouth and couldn’t produce enough saliva.
“Okay. So what am I doing here? What do you want with me?”
It was Patton who responded.
“I already told you that, Travis. You’re done. You’re gone. You’re going to leave and never come back here. I know you killed that family and I know it was you that came out to my house to kill me. Now you’ve been running back and forth between Charlie Henry and Anna and Asher and that little ass wipe Tyler Redding. Now what you’re going to do is admit it all on tape.”
Travis’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t a rat. He was loyal to those who hired his services. “You’re high if you think that,” he said, his calm beginning to give way to panic.
The big guy smiled.
“I was hoping you would say that,” he said. He lifted a little shelf in front of Travis’s face—the kind that dentists use when they’re operating on a patient. He took the little brown ball and clamped a wire to it, screwing the other end onto the remote control. “Stand back Patton,” Wildcat said with all the drama he could muster, then pushed a button on the phone.
There was a loud crack, causing Travis’s ears to ring loudly. Worse than that, he had burn marks all over his face and part of his eyebrows had been singed off.