Chapters 35-Epilogue

CHAPTER 35

A week later Rico sat in his office. The phone rang. Jennifer answered and asked twice who it was and then was silent. Rico’s stomach knotted instantly. Jennifer’s slower than normal appearance at his door and absent smile didn’t help.

“Jacob …” she said. “FBI.”

The acronym processed in his brain letter by letter. Oh man, are they on to me already?

“Regarding?” he asked, keeping a blank face.

“Don’t know. Says he’s Agent Brooks.”

“Then why the ashen face?” he managed to whisper, waiting for his pulse to startup again.

“Just a feeling … I guess.”

Must be going around, he pondered.

Hearing that wasn’t any comfort. Last time she had a feeling they had to fight their way out of a very well concealed Al-Qaeda ambush in the Kush region of Afghanistan. Had the commander listened to her, two men would not have perished.

“Hey, girl, I’m sure it’s nothing. Make me one of those Iced Mocha thingies you and Joey drink, will you.”

She obeyed and left, no less ashen faced, eyes looking up, arms hugging her belly.

“Rico here,” he said to the caller on the phone an instant after Jennifer turned to leave. The grimace he allowed was more about losing influence over Jennifer; before she would have chirped right back up. Even when one time, way back when, she thought she was pregnant—by someone other than him—he quickly had her shedding tears of laughter. He knew darn well who had her ear now; for chastisement and comforting.

“Yes, Mr. Rico, the Las Cruces PD referred me to you. I have orders from Washington that involve you in protecting two young principals. Where can we meet?”

Rico’s mind locked on the word Washington and barely heard the rest. At least now he had a faint pulse.

Whew, it’s about her. “Inside the new federal court house … in thirty. Give the security folks my name,” Rico said and hung up. Orders from Washington?

It was high time to have a direct and stern talk with the lieutenant about clarity and integrity; just as soon as he could get his grimy hands on the man. And Rico wasn’t even aware that the case had grown into a federal Grand Jury matter with serious political undertones.

At the court house, Rico was quickly ushered into a private conference room that had a U.S. Marshal standing guard. Inside, two FBI agents sat waiting at a long, natural oak conference table that had only a triangular teleconference device and a coffee pot sitting on it. Boredom and indifference shown on the slim, black female agent’s posture and face; she wore a rather unstylish suit that Rico could only snicker at silently. A shorter white male agent wore wire rim glasses and a more business like expression, though not necessarily a thrilled-to-be-here one, and a rather pricey looking Italian cut suit. Rico wondered if the odd pair was really FBI.

The children were secure in another television-equipped room. A large one-way mirror divided the two rooms; Rico could see the two were engrossed watching Monsters, Inc. How ironic he thought, monsters were everywhere … real ones. Believe children … and run!

“OK, gentlemen, when is the transfer to take place and for how long,” Rico asked, attempting a cool, detached demeanor while pouring himself some coffee.

The two agents looked at each other, rolling their eyes. They didn’t seem impressed with his casual manner.

“Sometime this evening,” the same one said instead.

“Whoa, wait a minute … today?” Rico wished he could recall the squeak.

At least it lowered the testosterone level in the room; or hormones as it were for the one agent. The male Doña Ana County Deputy Sheriff had entered the room and stood against the door arms crossed, but slightly fidgety, almost edgy. 

“That’s correct,” the white agent answered, annoyed that Rico wouldn’t look him straight in the eye.

From the corner of his eye Rico couldn’t make out if the wince on the man’s face when he spoke was an arrogant jab or an expression of worry. Another gut feeling told him the guy was really worried. But this was just a low level matter, he remembered. By now he was too frazzled to analyze anything accurately. Maybe it was standard procedure, but why a sheriff and a U.S. marshal on guard? An unidentified man, wearing raggedy attire with sunglasses and sitting quietly in a corner, rattled his nerves even more. He knew better than to ask the man’s identity or agency.

“That’s not enough lead time … I, I agreed to post trial security … because I needed the lead time.”

“Intelligence points to …”

The black agent signaled to the one talking to tread carefully.

“This guy needs some help. He can’t operate in the blind,” the white agent said, slightly annoyed at the other.

“Yea,” Rico said. What’s going on? This is giving me the heebee geebees.

“This is strictly confidential … understand?”

Rico nodded. Can I bail out instead?

“Mrs. Putman would not testify unless independent evidence was found first. Well, guess what? U.S. Marshals are right now taking over Mrs. Putman’s protection from your detail.”

Sure enough, Rico’s radio-phone buzzed.

The agent signaled he should answer it. Rico answered and authorized Joey to hand Mrs. Putman over.

“Tomorrow morning,” the same agent continued when Rico put the radio away. “The Grand Jury will probably indict and then seal the case airtight. Since the kids have no information to provide, they are in little danger. Hence, the higher ups refuse to …”

Rico’s underarm perspiration was flowing like a river. “Uhm … not to sound ignorant and all … but, all this for a domestic abuse case? Maybe you can find another company to handle this.”

He made a wish. At least he could tell Joey he tried.

The two agents looked at each other. The senior FBI agent’s mind raced. The man had been there when Rico saved the San Diego mayorial candidate’s life, and had a good inkling that it had been a fluke. It was officially noted by him, but not included in the final official report, courtesy editing by his superiors. The career FBI agent felt sure Rico was back then just a very, very lucky novice. Unfortunately, this knowledge was of little solace on this second improbable occasion to deal with the man Rico. The agent knew his superiors would nix his recommendation to find someone else; never mind that Rico happened to be his best, and only, option in this one horse town.

The white agent considered the matter, secretly ringing his hands under the table while his partner stared at him, waiting. Another failure by this man would do more to ruin my career than vindicate me. I have to make sure this jerk succeeds!

Rico would no doubt have gone for the jugular had the man verbalized his thoughts. But right then, he evidently was getting all he would get; little information and no way out. There were positives in this situation somewhere; but they escaped him.

Rico’s mind went into overdrive to find at least one. “OK, then … I just put the kids under wraps and that’s it?”

The two FBI agents nodded.

“Except …”

Just sock it to me. Why stop now, Rico thought.

“… that the mother wants the kids to say goodbye to their father, before they … disappear. Bring them here tomorrow at 10 a.m. We’ll take them from the lobby and let you know when to pick them up. Within the week they’ll go on to new lives,” the black agent said, finally speaking.

“Agreed,” Rico said. Retirement? There’s a thought!

The agents introduced Rico to the children, a seven and nine year-old.

The two girls’ somber demeanor told Rico the movie hadn’t helped them forget. Did they know that their father, who by all accounts had been a good, loving one, was probably prison bound? Rico assured them that they would see him tomorrow. That didn’t promise to be complicated at all; at least with Joey’s help.

On the drive back to the office, talking on his cell phone, he was informed about how the transfer of Mrs. Putman to the marshals had almost turned ugly. They didn’t want to wait for them to call Rico who was then in conference with the FBI. Joey, the fighting Irish, wouldn’t budge, so they caved in and let her call.

He called an emergency meeting for 10 a.m., thirty minutes away. Once everyone arrived, Rico ordered Sarge to rest before a later graveyard shift. The contract security company was enlisted to man all NSA’s posts. Joey had duty from the time they picked up the kids until midnight. Jennifer had motorcycle rover duty the next morning. Rico was to be the sole escort for the kids to the courthouse when the time came—an executive decision.

CHAPTER 36

Morning proved a treat for the visiting children. Joey’s home cooking and the company of lively girls had them in stitches. Tina dropped the pretense of being miss grown up sexy girl long enough to engage in silly antics. Rosangelica was glad to have her old little sis back, at least until Sarge’s son made his appearance minutes later.

Meanwhile, Rico and Jennifer met privately in the conference room after donning the cutting edge armor. In case of a situation, Jennifer would run interference or provide cover fire, if necessary, while Rico escaped with his charges.

Jennifer wore a long face, her legs feeling strangely rubbery. Rico’s extra emphasis on leaving the scene quickly, no matter what, reverberated in her head like in a dream. Though maximum caution was a cardinal rule with him, the look on his face this day portended something ominous. She hoped beyond hope that her sixth sense was fooling with her and that her newfound emotional, physical and spiritual paradise would remain undisturbed. But a one hundred percent hit rate on premonitions couldn’t be ignored.     

Both loaded their side arms with shock rounds. Rico quizzed Jennifer on using the spring-loaded bullet shields he had installed on all the motorcycles. The dialogue between the two had a graveness to it that neither wanted to acknowledge, verbally. When they were done, Jennifer offered a clingy hug. He didn’t exactly resist.

Rico didn’t say anything to anyone, but the day before he had upped his term insurance after his visit with the G-men and had secured various powers of attorney relegating authority to Joey, Jennifer and Sarge for all his business matters. He gave life-support matters exclusively to Joey of course. Sensibly, he concluded that two million in insurance would hold her over better than one.

Rico brought the Smart Truck and a cycle up from the underground lair. Jennifer, at his direction over the radio, escorted the two girls out to the garage. The principals—the children—found the monster truck a real trip. Jennifer noted they tended to the tomboyish side; like someone else she knew.

Rico didn’t have the control panels with all the lights and switches open yet. He did open the overhead panel one in the front compartment once they were strapped in and the dividing window was closed. No need to give someone a reason to threaten the little ones for tactical information.

Rico took off first. Jennifer followed. She peeled off from trailing escort duty at Solano and Amador streets. A minute later she was roaming around and about the fairly new federal courthouse. Having notified the dispatcher to advise all units about her presence and purpose, she wasn’t pulled over about the cannon-size handgun she wore on her thigh. Neither did her looking around with binoculars concern the already notified feds patrolling the courthouse.

Jennifer, distracted by two mysterious vans, missed a movement on the rooftop of a two-story building one block north of the courthouse’s main entrance. The minivans, parked in the second row nearest the court entrance didn’t portend anything good. Then two armed guards, who for some reason suddenly headed toward the courthouse building, passed near to those same vans and seemed to have missed the suspicious occupants—several out of place, stoic looking, binocular-equipped men and a woman. Jennifer figured they had to be legit. Bad guys don’t usually hide in plain site.

Jennifer felt her skin crawl. She forced herself to not call Rico to abort. What would she base it on anyway? Maybe other guards were around the corner and these were getting a quick briefing to receive Rico’s two-person package.  

Rico arrived three minutes later and received a radio all-clear from Jennifer. He, in turn, didn’t miss the less than authoritative way she had spoken, but also shrugged off the odd feeling. Things looked fine as he turned the corner.

*     *     *

Meanwhile, Joey was at home obeying the unusual, but unequivocal, instructions her husband gave to sequester Rosangelica and Tina in her basement bedroom in the dojo. This was of course next to Michelle’s room, whom the girls still didn’t know existed.

But Joey wasn’t exactly guarding them. Instead, she had them praying hard—for something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Nothing came to mind, though the fact that her husband had been concerned enough to send her into cover was a clue. She was about to start praying when suddenly a strong spirit of fear tried to overtake her. Her entire body refused to respond; her heart almost went into shock and felt as though it would stop beating. She mustered all her energy and all she could manage to force out was the name “Jesus,” and that barely in a guttural whisper. But it was enough, the spirit fled; just as that same Jesus promised her in the Scriptures.

Joey’s body still shuddered seconds afterward. What in the world was that? Several Bible verses came to mind and she had her answer. This was the first time she had been attacked so directly or by such a powerful being. If it never happened again she would be quite happy. But a strong servant in the spirit was always a prime target; and a strong servant of God she was. She hunkered down for more warfare.

 *     *     *

Rico sat in his truck. He looked around. The inner alarms rang despite the serene, sleepy view; it was paranoia he continued reasoning. Even then he seriously considered disappointing the principals by denying them an opportunity to see their father one last time. The chaos he might create by alarming the mother and causing her not to testify against her abusive tyrant of a husband helped set his mind straight.

An alert Rico disembarked, looked about one last time, opened the sliding side door and offered his hand to each child to help them down. The two almost instinctively clung to him. He had parked illegally because the closest parking was rather far, and the front of the court house was blocked off to vehicle traffic. A six-story bank was located directly across the street. He gave each window a quick glance. Nothing out of the ordinary; roof looked clear too. He didn’t look back to the building one block behind him.

Not more than fifty feet from the minivans, Rico realized he had forgotten his bullet proof helmet. He was turning the girls around when he heard the comforting sound of a revving cycle engine, echoing off the buildings. The comfort he felt evaporated instantly when two men wearing sunglasses flung open the van doors and emerged from each vehicle, about twenty feet behind him. They discreetly held silencer-fitted side arms against their thighs. One of them subtly revealed an Uzi submachine gun, also sporting a silencer, from under a windbreaker. A red dot bounced around Rico’s belly. It aroused nothing in him.

Then the still mostly concealed Uzi’s laser brushed over the two kids. Rico’s throat tightened and prevented him from speaking into the sensitive VOX throat mike he wore. He drew the children behind him as they backed up toward the Smart Truck, also a long twenty feet away. Closing within six feet from him and the children, the men discreetly cocked their weapons and told Rico he could walk away if he handed the kids over.

Rico locked eyes with the apparent lead man. Great! A wanna-be tough guy.

“Delta Force? Don’t look tough enough to break through a paper sack,” the man annoyingly said, sounding more in control than he was. “Either way, don’t do anything stupid … or then again, I wouldn’t mind …”

Rico noticed fidgeting from the other hired guns. Let me guess, the boss’ son? This can’t be happening … it only happens in the movies! Rico was thinking as the woman in the group interrupted the man and spoke up, promising they wouldn’t be hurt.

The father wanted them safe while the DA grew a brain and dropped the charges; or so the woman said.

“He doesn’t want to have to find them if the mother leaves the country with them,” she said, adding to the obvious ire of the leader.

Rico determined the men were clearly professional muscle, probably ex-military, and more than likely just wanted a quick, quiet and uneventful payday; except for the lead guy who, even with Rico’s mile-long stare, still appeared intent on some action.

Killing was messy, in many ways, Rico knew. And maybe the others would knock out the brash youngster and keep things quiet the way the boss ordered; and avoid casualties. The others were obviously more seasoned in their work; they had to be cognizant that surprises were likely lurking under the ex-Delta man’s plain exterior; a single man and easy to deal with to be sure, but dangerous nonetheless. And the Jordan they had studied in their prep was no push over.

Rico nodded. He needed to stall somehow. “Kids, do you want to go with your dad?”

They both nodded and said yes.

The radio better be transmitting, Rico thought.

Sweat now raining down his forehead contrasted with his otherwise effective poker face. “They’re yours … but if you hurt these two kids … I’ll find you. So drive the green and the white minivans safely.”

The men scowled and signaled for him to cut the bull and hand them over.

Jennifer heard the last part of the conversation clearly. Flabbergasted, she revved the cycle and looked for a fed to alert. None were around. Something’s wrong, she thought again, now having something concrete to substantiate her suspicions. The cycle jumped a curb toward the minivans.

I refuse or stall, I die … and they still get the kids. Rico released the girls and backed further toward his truck. He felt the urgency to get to his bulletproof helmet, but could barely see where the truck was for the burning sweat in his eyes.

The sniper Jennifer had missed during her recon, and still couldn’t see, set the crosshairs.

Rico reached in the truck, felt for and grabbed his helmet and proceeded toward the minivans. The gunmen were about to shut the doors. The children, insisting on seatbelts, and a couple of the bulky assailants trying to fit in slowed their progress a bit.

The bad guy that was assigned rear security noticed the repentant Rico approaching while trying to place the helmet on and draw his side arm. The man fired a puff emanating round, hitting Rico in the abdomen.

As the helmet flew out of Rico’s hand, he instantly came to the grim realization that the round had penetrated the armor. Armor piercing … great … just great! he grimaced, falling to the ground.

Staying down meant he lived, probably. If he didn’t make it, it would eliminate the heart aches he was seemingly destined to create later; except the kids under his charge needed him first … before …

Jennifer slapped the buttons that actuated the protective bulletproof shields Rico had installed. They swung up like wings and covered the majority of her frame from the sides and the back. She felt like a dorky Bat Woman, but drew comfort that Rico had thought ahead. She fired from atop her cycle, with the machine skidding to a stop.

The would-be kidnappers were slightly annoyed, thinking the two former hero pests just needed to scoot along for their own good. The annoyance quickly turned to ire in the others when the hostile that had shot Rico caught Jennifer’s single round through an eye socket; really an errant shot when she dropped the cycle to its side. The normally non-lethal Shock Round proved otherwise this time. The background on the lady was obviously right on the money, the crew concluded.

Rico lay on his side, in a fetal position, holding his belly, and barely able to consider any options; the thought of doing nothing dismissed as easily as it had come. The prescription morphine pill he had popped thirty minutes earlier served double duty and partially numbed the sting of the round.

“Disengage, Jenny, that’s an order. Just get help!”

I would love to do that, Jacob, she thought.

With still no sign of the authorities, she wasn’t about to leave her charge. Who had priority just then, the kids or Rico, she wasn’t sure. She prayed for guidance and protection. 

Rico willed himself upright and hobbled toward the minivan that was backing away from the attacking Jennifer, feverishly unloading his magazine into the tires and windshield.

Jennifer did the same, ignoring orders. She quickly ducked behind a car as Rico mentioned the armor piercing rounds … a little late. A round had just taken a good chunk of flesh off her right shoulder.

That’s why the wings weren’t stopping the bullets. I thought Rico got burnt, Jennifer thought, finding it interesting that such a silly thought could pass through her mind in the middle of all this.

From her pinned down position she managed to assess that the getaway for the hostiles had been complicated. She took another cautious peek and realized Rico’s truck door was open. She panicked when she saw Rico catch another round and collapse to the ground.

A mere ninety seconds had transpired since the first shot had been fired. Passing cars and pedestrians thought it some sort of exercise since the silencers and closed, air conditioned car windows prevented even the puff sounds from registering. It might as well have been a paint-ball fight.

The hostiles fired in her direction while dragging the children toward Rico’s truck—a perfect gift-wrapped escape vehicle; a fair trade for Rico disabling their vehicles.

Where are the feds, or cops? Rico thought in a state of fuzziness, increasing pain, and looming sense of finality. No sense of doom; just finality.

He didn’t know better.

The apparent ring leader walked past Rico, who was trying to play possum; a little difficult when in agonizing pain; morphine could only do so much. The man stopped in his tracks, turned and placed a green laser dot on Rico’s forehead.

Jennifer watched in horror and said what amounted to her very first panicked cry for help from above. “Jesus!” she mouthed.

She couldn’t lift her weapon with her good arm above the car roof in time to fire a shot. Jennifer could only watch as the man, aiming at Rico from only a foot away, suddenly winced and reached for his neck at the same time he yanked the trigger and overshot Rico’s head by inches, then fell over and hit the ground.

If anyone could choose a sniper in whose crosshairs to find themselves, they couldn’t have picked a better one. The sniper, apparently intending to let his or her targets live another day, used sleeping darts. Normally, this same sniper would have used a lethal round and fired at the target’s fatal funnel, a circular area at jaw level from the mouth around the to the back of the neck. If he had, the signal to the target’s trigger finger would never have made it past the severed spinal cord.

Could this be a law enforcement sniper? Or was Rico the actual target? But why shoot the other guy? Maybe to toy with Rico before shooting him, but with a bullet? Jennifer’s thoughts ran away like a freight train. She grew dizzy.  

When Jennifer had been watching the ring leader steady the dot on Rico’s forehead, toying with him, another of the would-be kidnappers—as Rico and Jennifer had mentally classified them by then—had unceremoniously snuck up on Jennifer to terminate her. Before he could execute her, he also went down in the same manner as the first sniper’s mark.

The sniper, yet to be identified as friend or foe, had just fired two split second shots at two separate targets. It was incredible feat in the best of conditions, and this sniper had done it firing darts from almost a hundred yards. Jennifer had been peeking through a windshield, almost blacking out from pain, and had witnessed the results of the sniper’s first shot a second before she heard the thump of the felled sniper’s second target. The man’s skull hitting the pavement made a rather pronounced cracking sound; louder than of the shots that had been fired.

By this time she had given up helping Rico, and had instead quickly targeted and shot the man sporting the Uzi. That hostile had gotten in her line of sight and had been shoving the children into the Smart Truck. She hit center of mass in the back. This time the round worked as designed and the man lay on the ground, alive but incapacitated by the electrical charge.

The two remaining hostiles dropped their weapons and raised their arms high. A male and female pair in an equal opportunity business, apparently.

Jennifer wasn’t egotistical enough to think that the arms raised were in deference to her instead of the X factor on the roof. Holstering her weapon she reached for her cell phone and pretended to be talking to someone.

“I’ve ordered my cover to switch to full metal jacket,” she informed the two reaching up to the sky. “Federal courthouse, shots fired,” she said for real to the dispatcher that answered and then hung up.

The two visibly stiffened, and after looking at each other dropped to their knees. The newest team members had gotten into something deeper than they had intended. They never really expected to use their side arms. “They are for intimidation,” they had been told.

They tried explaining more but Jennifer wasn’t listening. Still, she somehow felt sorrow for the two and decided to pray for them; maybe she would visit them in jail. She couldn’t believe she had actually had that thought.

Jennifer zig-zagged toward Rico’s motionless body. She called 911 again when she remembered she hadn’t asked for an ambulance. Her mind wanted to shut down, the ground seemed to be moving.

“Jennifer? Is this you?” the dispatcher asked. “This is Rosemary! But, I can’t make out what you want.”

“Hi … Rose… I, I need an airvac … for, for Ja… right now, I’ll … pay for it. The federal courthouse … parking l…. Hurry, pleeease.”

“Why, Jennifer?”

“Something went … wrong, terribly … wrong.”

She was at least ten feet from Rico before falling to the ground. The dispatcher knew Jennifer’s occupation and made the connection without any more questions.

Sirens blared, and feds and local police flooded the parking lot.

It had to be a dream; the noises came and went in waves; fading in and out, like someone playing with the volume knob on a radio.

Finally, Jennifer thought, getting to her feet and shoving her way past them to get to Rico. She angrily shoved one marshal aside who asked her where the sniper fire came from. So the shooter wasn’t one of their own? She had spotted the shooter’s outline on the roof just after the last round, but she wasn’t about to help the ones she suspected had a hand in what smelled like a setup.

Instead, she hit the ground again next to Rico. Her head on the pavement, she watched blood trickle from his abdomen, a shallow wheezing coming from under his hand covering the entry wound. The bullet hole in his right chest, the second round that hit him, had gone right through without hitting bone, imbedding itself in the Smart Truck.

If she had seen the size of either of the exit wounds, she would have lost even the pretend ounce of hope that remained in her. Another big brother and soul friend taken away. Is God still mad? The notion tore into her soul.

Rico came to and started mumbling.

Jennifer crept forward to hear Rico’s last words before crossing over.

“Tell her I’ve loved her from the first … and I love you … and the girls. And tell my ex sorry for me. But … to be honest … Jenny … I don’t exactly … know what … love means. I, I’m sorry … You know … you really are … more beautiful inside than ….” He took a deep breath.

It seemed strange to Jennifer that he didn’t seem in pain, just out of breath. His eyes closed, throat contracted and convulsed.

“It’s just a word some people say with their lips. But you’ve lived it, Jacob … and … and it has surrounded you a long, long time,” she cried.

His eyes didn’t open again to give a clue of understanding, only a slight wince showed on his face. “Anyway … tell the doc, Joey only needs to know … about today’s little … problems … okay?”

“You’re gonna make it, Jacob,” Jennifer said, not very convincingly. “If you don’t, I …” Her anguish quickly intermingled with rage, she seethed at the sight of SWAT officers flooding onto a rooftop, the sniper’s abandoned perch.

“Jacob, I’m sorry … I messed up … I didn’t …”

“Shut up,” he said and reached for her hand. He squeezed as hard as a ninety year-old grandmother. “You … uh … great. The kids … safe … right, Jenny?”

Jennifer turned her head to see the children, encircled by marshals and being rushed into the federal courthouse building. She nodded and whispered, “Yes, boss,” as the paramedics readied Rico for the air-ambulance.

Rosemary came through again, she thought. I gotta get her a gift or some ….

Everything looked okay now, security wise, as she rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. The objective had been accomplished after all, the two principals safely tucked away. Somehow, she analyzed even as her brain registered another round of searing pain, it wasn’t supposed to have been achieved. Nevertheless, another mission accomplished.

Another paramedic prepared a morphine shot for her. The dangling piece of flesh on her shoulder, speckled with bone fragments, would have made Rico faint if he had been able to even look sideways at his panicking friend. Seconds later she watched the paramedics carrying Rico stop just feet from the chopper and ready the paddles. She tried reaching for him, then blacked out.

CHAPTER 37

 The news reached Joey ten minutes later. Rosemary had finally caught a break to make the somber call to Joey, her good friend, sister and mentor in the Lord. She told her Rico had regained consciousness momentarily in the chopper and had demanded to be sent to the UNM Medical Center, farther away from the undetermined danger. Jennifer was taken to Memorial Medical.

Joey quickly called for a plane at the Las Cruces airport. After Jennifer snuck out of the hospital, Joey picked Sarge and her up and drove to the airport.

On the way, Jennifer recounted what had happened, often slurring words. She counted two dead assailants by her hand and two unconscious ones by an anonymous sniper.

In fact, only one hostile was dead by her hand, the one she shot in the back only had some residual pain, thanks to her listening to Rico weeks before to drop the powder load by half. Now she would only have to stave off one unlawful death suit. Fortunately, Rico believed in lots of liability insurance. And prayer would keep her calm during the trying Grand Jury hearings that would follow and drag on and on.

A sniper that hit the wrong marks? Or highly proficient? And protecting who? Joey pondered. By then it was clear the individual had no affiliation with any branch of law, as a massive search had been initiated and announced on the local TV networks.

Based on what Jennifer had told her, Joey ordered the team into tactical mode. Each was already armed and armored. They would be circling the wagons around the downed knight. Joey called the governor and begged his help.

Immediately, he dispatched two of his State Police security detachment officers to her husband’s side, declaring the situation a state security matter. A safety and public relations nightmare had landed at his doorstep. He was furious with the FBI and Marshal Service. And of all things, his high profile friend was smack in the middle of it.

Once on the ground in Albuquerque, Sarge finally made contact with Cohen. The man said he had engagements he could not break and apologized. He would contribute from afar and pray.

So much for loyalty, Sarge thought. He wondered how in the world this religious man got past his boss’ anti-religious screening process. And so much for support from the faithful. Prayer? Yeah, right!

Jennifer broadcast her agony at every pot hole the rental car drove through. By now she was lucid enough to observe Joey closely, without Joey’s face contorting and looking fuzzy. As Sarge drove, Joey just looked about like an every day tourist seeming to enjoy the passing scenery. At a red light an almost smile crossed Joey’s face even when she spotted some kids playing in a corner lot, laughing their hearts out about something. Her interwoven fingers and just slightly moving lips were the only evidence Jennifer could see that prayer might be going up to heaven. Maybe it was a well developed coping mechanism; what Jennifer wouldn’t give to read her mind.

Even as the small entourage entered through the emergency entrance, Joey continued her biblical example of serenity. A look of deep thought kept everyone else from speaking.

Jennifer, on the other hand, fell apart the moment she saw Rico on the operating table. The blood soaked clothes he had worn were in a plastic pan near the window from where they watched. The doctors worked feverishly. Jennifer found herself kneeling over the trash canister she had reached barely in time.

Joey emptied her purse of tissues and wipes, handing them to her. Joey snapped to all of a sudden and swung into action, dispatching Sarge for coffee and scribbling some notes for the bodyguards to deliver to the governor. The guards balked at first, but finally deferred to Joey’s orders.

She could be very persuasive; some would say intimidating.

The nurses had reacted immediately at seeing the holstered side arms on the apparent civilians, especially the two women’s large ones strapped to their thighs. The armed guard had been alerted to escort them out. Joey directed Jennifer, who had by now recomposed herself, and Sarge to go concealed. She then had to convince the arriving duty officer that he did not want to create a scene.

Fortunately, the governor had just arrived and prevented an escalation. He had met with Joey’s messengers in the lobby and been briefed. Joey asked him to provide intelligence about the men who attacked her husband and to assure the safety of the children he had tried to protect. He promised help and soon left to an important luncheon.

Minutes later Rico was moved to ICU. According to the surgical team, that Rico had made it alive to the operating table had been nothing short of a miracle in and of itself; that was the good news. The prognosis was not. The internal trauma and bleeding, along with bleeding from the two exit wounds should have killed him minutes after the shooting. Some organs they simply left untouched because they were beyond repair. Machines took over. Hours were optimistic; minutes likely—absent a second true blue miracle. 

When one surgeon mentioned how long Rico had been in shock, and thereby probably suffered serious mental impairments, Joey mentally calculated backwards to the time of the shooting. It would have been the exact time she and the girls were in the basement praying ... for what, at the time, they didn’t know.

Jennifer and the surgeons watched Joey as she went to a corner of the temporarily crowded ICU room. She seemed to be talking to herself … almost arguing.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” Joey was saying under her breath. “I’m sorry for covetousness. I didn’t mean it when I said Jacob was being too much of a burden. It’s just that … he made me mad that he didn’t turn down this job … like I asked him to. That’s why he’s dying! Did you do it God? Are you teaching me a lesson? But he’s not saved. I thought you told me … he would be. I wanted to share my faith with him and you said no. And instead I wished I hadn’t married him ... fantasizing, wishing I had married … Oh, I’m so sorry Lord! God, what am I … no, what are you Mighty God going to do?”

Joey started pacing in a circle. Her hands couldn’t cover the flushed face and wet cheeks. Jennifer watched the less together Joey, and it wasn’t pretty.

“Be still, I AM near.”

For only the second time in her Christian walk she heard God with her natural ears. He gave her some instructions, speaking only into her mind after that, not audibly. 

Jennifer felt compelled to comfort her. As she approached, she heard Joey say, “Lord … I don’t know if I can do that. They are going to think I’m in shock … or just a wacko.”

Jennifer was about to put her hand on Joey’s shoulder when Joey turned, still talking.

“Yes, I’ll do it L … Oh, Jennifer. Please excuse me.” Joey unceremoniously and without any attempt at being subtle wiped her face and blew her nose firmly into a pre-used tissue she managed to salvage from her purse.

“Sorry, Jennifer, I gotta go do something before I change my mind.” Joey hurried to the surgeons who were about to leave. Looking very reserved and staring at the floor, Joey raised a hand to signal them, her mouth didn’t seem to want to move.

Jennifer followed closely behind. Please, Lord, I can’t possibly handle losing Jacob and Joey losing her mind on the same day! Oh, no, I’m gonna throw up again!

“Doctors, nurse …” Joey started. “… I want to confirm that you have MRI’s and video of his insides … you know, when you were operating?”

For liability reasons hospitals had taken to recording procedures of all kinds.

The surgeons were disturbed and dealing—each in their own way—with seeing a patient slipping away, but all in the group nodded.

“Can you please send for the tech that did the MRI.”

The doctor’s spirits weren’t very high so acceded to her request to at least accomplish something. The puzzled tech arrived minutes later.

“Will you agree to personally sign this man’s MRI printouts and send me a copy, at my expense, sometime today?” She waved a power of attorney, the one Rico forced on her the day before.

The tech agreed, sneaking a look at each of the doctors, one at a time. They didn’t respond to his perplexed expression.

The doctors weren’t wearing their masks any more, only long faces. Was there something they were missing? Were they counting the mangled man in front of them down and out prematurely?

“This will only take a few more minutes, doctors. Trust me please, it’ll be worth your time. Remember that what you are about to see still falls under doctor-patient confidentiality laws and you can only tell others with his explicit permission.”

The man on this bed? The one who will be dead in an hour at the most?

“We are all in agreement he has hours?” Joey asked.

The group reluctantly affirmed that that was their medical opinion. Jennifer almost let out a sob at seeing the nods of concurrence. But her friend lying on the bed would not have wanted to make it anyway, if someone had to tend to him.

Just then the monitors beeped and the EKG line went flat. The doctors were about to start CPR when Joey waved them off. One of the doctors actually seemed to agree and didn’t even budge.

Jennifer was ready to explode with anger that Joey wasn’t giving Rico a chance. She was just giving up, doing nothing but holding up Jacob Rico’s Living Will to the doctors.

“You didn’t touch his exit wounds.” Joey asked, looking up at the ceiling.

The doctors shook their heads. How could she know that? They wondered.

“How big?”

One doctor made a large circle with his hands, about nine inches. The others concurred with nodding heads.

“We … placed coagulating pads on them to stop the bleeding and planned skin grafts if he made it.”

“I take it that was going to be a challenge all by itself?”

They chose not to mention, even though Joey knew it, the hospital could generate any quantity of skin they needed for skin grafts in minutes. The inkjet-like tissue printing machine could also generate other types of tissue and several body parts. Lots of skin would have had to be generated for this patient. But that option was for probable survivors only, and insured ones. Rico was only one of those; the blood loss shock alone gave him less than a ten percent chance. The doctors just wanted to leave and put salve on their own wounds, hoping for a brighter outcome with the next patient, already prepped in the ER—perhaps also because their hearts went out to the strange-acting spouse of the unfortunate man.

Joey said nothing else for a very uncomfortable, tense-filled minute; eyes closed and lips moving in silent talk. Then she started talking aloud.

Jennifer didn’t know whether to hide or indicate agreement.

“Lord you say that by your stripes we are healed. That greater things than you did, we would do. You gave me the gift of healing and you say that with a mustard seed of faith I can tell a mountain to be removed … and it will,” Joey said.

Jennifer didn’t know what to do. The doctors watched and waited for a courteous way to make tracks.

Joey continued, “… for your glory, and your glory alone, Lord God, in the name of Jesus, let this mountain be moved. Let this unbeliever experience Your mercy and grace.” Joey didn’t say another comprehensible thing. The rest of what came out her mouth for some ten seconds sounded like gibberish, with Hebrew in the mix.

Joey dug into her purse. She seemed almost in shock, or a trance. “Put my husband, as is, into a private room. In three hours he’ll need a bandage change. Until then, do not resuscitate … here’s the other notarized order that states that.”

This only confirmed the doctor’s, and Jennifer’s, suspicion that she wasn’t all there. Nevertheless, there was silence and then a sigh of relief from the doctors. They had done their best.

Before anyone knew it Joey began acting like her normal self; the level-headed friend Jennifer remembered. But her words were still out there.

“OK, doctors … soon after my husband resuscitates, he will begin to grow sinew tissue in the most damaged internal organs … those you could not have possibly repaired. By tonight, only the parts that you sewed up will remain to heal in a natural time frame. The exit wounds will also heal completely, and on their own, in three days, leaving only one inch memorial scars. All of this is so that you can know that the Lord is God. Apparently, God wants one of you folk’s attention. Never mind my husband’s attention,” Joey added as an afterthought.

“Do not tell him anything about dying when he wakes up. Understand doctors?”

The group shrugged their shoulders as if embarrassed, not wanting to be the one to burst the loony lady’s bubble.

Joey, faith in uncurling a crippled arm is one thing … but … Oh, Joey, just say bye, Jennifer thought.

“OK, Jenny, you’re in charge of security and documenting the progress your boss makes, recording the doctor’s words please. A recorder would do too. I’m headed home … there are things there I can plow.”

Jennifer didn’t have the wherewithal to ponder Joey’s odd vocabulary.

Back in Las Cruces, Michelle was beginning to leave the bed and to be out and about in the room; she needed Joey’s physical and emotional attention. Her physical therapy was grueling, and Joey wanted to be there for her. Joey thought it time to let the secret out and make use of the girl’s energies, but Michelle kept nixing the suggestion.

Joey’s words were hard for Jennifer to swallow. Joey was exiting the room when she stopped in her tracks near the door. Reluctant to turn her face, looking straight ahead, she said to Jennifer, “By the way Jennifer … God wants you to know that you will do greater works than what you are about to see happen to that man, who is like a second brother to you—a gift He had for you, since before you were born.”

What are you talking about Joey? Do you know about my real brother? Of course, my

parents told you.

In fact, they hadn’t mentioned him yet.

Jennifer stood speechless, wide-eyed, and unable to decide whether her friend was being perceptive, cold, full of faith, trusting of her, indifferent, rude, drunk … or what. Sudden throbbing from the shoulder injury distracted her from her confused mind for a moment. Joey took advantage and vanished.

Jennifer once again felt the force of the loss of her brother decades before; as if it had happened only yesterday. She wanted to let out all the pain with one great wail, and yet she also wanted to praise God for loaning her Rico. Then again, there he lay … lifeless too. Her soul weighed a ton, the pit of despair called her name. She hugged her belly and sought a seat. Finding none, she slid down as she leaned against the cold wall; almost as cold as her heart felt. Her heart could not conjure up of a single word to say to God; on her behalf the Holy Spirit groaned prayers that could not be uttered.

For a second she almost allowed herself to pray in tongues, but she wasn’t ready to believe in that strange thing again and restrained her tongue. After being baptized in the Holy Spirit at thirteen and speaking a beautiful sounding heavenly language, she had since refused to speak in a language she couldn’t understand; never mind her parent’s ardent explanations. 

The doctors, by this time finished rationalizing away the whole event, quickly arranged for a room for the corpse and a cot for Jennifer, then hastily they left for the ER. All this and they still had ten hours left on their shift. Still, they were really worried about the bundle of tears that was Jennifer balled up on the floor, big gun and all. One of them informed a nurse on that floor to monitor her. She seemed not used to traumatic events he told the nurse. Maybe she’ll hand you the gun.

The nurse was very patient and helped Jennifer come back to life and recover some of her senses; the effort to take the gun didn’t go well. She recommended a hotel for Jennifer and offered to call a taxi. But of course Jennifer would have none of that. She stayed with her friend and alternated between groaning, moaning, and sobbing while watching her friend’s lifeless body. She rocked back and forth like a child. Her frequent chills worsened when thoughts that Rico had died not knowing Jesus pummeled her.

Sarge walked in. He avoided eye contact with Jennifer. He paced for a short time at Rico’s side, saying nothing; he knew a dead man when he saw one. When he snuck another peek at Jennifer, she had sat upright and was wiping and blowing her nose.

“I’m, I’m really sorry. I know how close you two were since way back when ….”

He couldn’t understand her look. It seemed to him the comment almost got her mad.

But, she was just curious as to what he could have heard about Rico and her, since they had never told him anything. Waves of memories came roaring in. She couldn’t muster the strength to ask.

Jennifer changed the subject and mentioned Joey’s earlier behavior. Sarge thought Joey’s conduct in the ICU and subsequent sudden departure odd also. They considered that Joey might fly the plane into the ground in her disoriented mental state. Jennifer felt a tinge of fear and guilt at letting her go.

*     *     *

Jacob Rico had been to hell before, figuratively speaking; but even as his wife prayed for his life and the surgical team hovered over him wearing solemn faces, Rico began a descent toward hell … literally. The moment his heart stopped, a shadow on horseback approached; extending the shadowy form of a hand, the being reached into Rico’s body and pulled fiercely on his soul. Horror filled Rico’s eyes as he peered back at his motionless body on the ICU bed. As the horse rose up to the ceiling, Rico had time to see Joey below. He tried to yell at her but quickly realized that the paper she was waving at the surgeons was the Do Not Resuscitate directive he had given her only weeks before—too late for a change of heart, or mind.

Rico doggedly, wildly resisted. It was to no avail as the horseman jerked him through the hospital floor. They plunged into nothingness for a few seconds and then they floated skyward. It wasn’t dark like he expected, at least not yet.

The horse suddenly broke into a fierce gallop as if racing time itself. Ahead, Rico spotted dark clouds surrounding black hot doors. Horrifying wails thundered from behind and beyond them. The full force of what the place was, and its significance, finally struck Rico. He screamed for Joey and Jennifer. The horseman ignored him. Darkness enveloped them.

The horseman stopped at the doors and shrieked. Barely had the doors creaked open when the screams from within shook Rico with the force of their anguish. He peeked ahead to see flames rising from a gigantic pit. Millions of condemned souls turned to see the newest one to join them. “Mercy!” they cried.

Fortunately, just before Rico was yanked past the threshold, he noticed four shooting stars streaming toward him from above. He determined that they were angels when one struck and broke the chains on his wrist with a double edged sword.

The horseman shrieked with anger. The shriek brought an instant response from ten hideous, vile smelling creatures that surrounded the angels.

Rico shuddered. His eyes bulged at the indescribable sight before him; a forceful smell emanating from the creatures shocked his nostrils, their hissing and gurgling was maddening. Obviously, his senses were going to be with him for eternity he considered.

Three of the angels engaged the beings with their swords and with words from the Lord of Hosts.

“The man of flesh belongs to Satan,” the grotesque doormen of Hell screeched.

“It is not his appointed time, thus saith the Lord of Hosts,” commanded the angel spiriting Rico away.

The creatures hissed as they caught up. One flew by and grabbed Rico’s arm, ripping off flesh and leaving an acidy fluid that had dripped from the very unsanitary talons.

Horror filled Rico’s heart as he stared at his dangling bicep muscle and visible bone underneath. The pain was excruciating and real; and apparently, morphine had no effect here.

Before the creature could follow through with a second swipe of his talons, an angel appeared from behind and smote the creature with a skillful swing of the sword. The creature screamed, evaporated into black smoke, and then reconstituted itself next to the lake of fire. The other creatures broke off the battle and flew toward the doorway and through the threshold, slamming the door shut behind them.

The eerie, dark spirit-being named Death, walked alongside the heavenly angels for a time, mocking Rico. “You’ll be back there, sooner or later,” he hissed.

Then Death veered off; off to another dimension, and Earth.

The angels turned toward a gleaming cloud surrounded by iridescent walls. Rico saw gigantic doors made of what looked like one solid piece of pearl. Rico figured he was about to enter paradise since his arm miraculously healed before his eyes as they drew closer to the place. Then the angels stopped near the entrance, encircled him, and assumed defensive stances.

Rico conjured up the courage to speak. “Angels of the Lord Most High …” Being an unbeliever, he hadn’t a clue how those words could come from his mouth. “Why don’t we go in there if those things are coming back?”

“Thou Son of Perdition,” one angel said. “Knowest not that thy name is not now written in the Lamb’s Book of Life? Yet three hours has the I Am said that thou will remain in this the Third Heaven, then thou shall be returned to flesh until your breath ceases again.”

Rico processed what the angel said. “Angels of the Lord Most High,” he said, again puzzled by the ludicrous words. “What was beyond that door back there?”

“Son of the World, that is the door to the many pits of the Lake of Fire. Death and Hell will be cast therein. This was to be a place solely for Heavens fallen angels. Many human souls have chosen to join them. As such, a soul that dies without a relationship with the Lamb of God goes there and is placed in the pit according to the primary sin it served while yet flesh.”

Rico shuddered again. “And … and I was going where?”

“Is it not enough to know that thou had prepared a bed there, having refused a place freely offered at the table of the King of kings?”

Rico had a thousand more questions, but God restrained his mouth. He fought to force his mouth to speak. He had so many questions.

Three hours later—Earth time—the angels lifted him as they rose. He could see inside the walled heavenly place. He saw streets of iridescent gold, flowers and trees. He saw adults and children of all shades walking and playing. It was so bright, and completely absent of shadows. One very large, centrally situated circle of light, surrounded by what looked like a crystal glass mote, radiated light of unimaginable brilliance. By God’s grace he was seeing into the future; a post rapture view of heaven.

No shadows! How can there be no shadows? Have I read that in a fairy tale some where? Could that be where I’m getting this dream? My imagination is getting just too creative. What are those light beams coming up from Earth into that bright, bright circle of light?

“Thou son of Israel, thus saith the Lord, those lights rising up from earth into my presence are the prayers of the righteous; even now three hundred and four of them fervently intercede on your behalf.”

He considered that as far as he knew he only knew one person on the face of the Earth who would pray for him. Rico’s last thought—before the four zoomed straight down from space like meteors through the stratosphere, into the atmosphere, toward the western hemisphere, North America, New Mexico, Albuquerque, the hospital building, and finally through the ceiling and floors—was that someone could read his thoughts.

Finally, the angels gently placed Rico’s soul back into the corpse that was his body.

What was that son of Israel thing? He still wanted to ask.

No angelic being would answer that for him. There was only One who knew the meaning of that.

Even though he was now back in the physical realm, his body wouldn’t respond and let him wake up. He lay there, immobile, but with the full sense of hearing intact. In that state he felt touched at hearing Jennifer’s fits of sobbing and words of endearment.  

He listened intently for his wife’s voice, hopefully crying. When he realized she wasn’t there, his heart grew heavy.

*     *     *

Rico finally woke up three days later in his private room. The vividness of the gripping nightmare still remained and he considered telling Jennifer about it. The continuing chills down his back puzzled him. Talking with Jennifer would surely help. Fortunately, for Jennifer, he didn’t. Instead, he focused on finding out about Joey’s whereabouts.

Had he told her, she would have panicked and told him he had really died; even though Joey had explicitly said not to. Jennifer still couldn’t figure that out, but she had just seen a miracle that confirmed God’s power. But she obeyed what Joey’s pastor had taught her, to listen to a man or woman of God’s instructions, even when they seemed odd. And odd things Joey definitely said, often. God responded to obedience and faith with wonders and honors, the pastor had humbly offered.  

No matter what, she was glad to have her brother back. That didn’t erase the fact that she was perplexed not knowing the reason for God not letting Jacob in on his death.

Who can know the mind of the I Am, popped into her mind. Her earthly father had repeated those same words to her so many times when she was young. Nearly erased memories of so long ago; they had been such frustrating, ire invoking, empty words then.

But joy overwhelmed her now. She doted on her friend. Now she felt more secure surrendering the matter to the God she was quickly getting reacquainted with. Jennifer made for an overly helpful patient-protector roommate. Had Rico been able, he would insist she stop embarrassing him by her around-the-clock doting; her seemingly endless energy annoyed him so.

In contrast, Sarge grew bored quickly and was getting relieved from his hallway post by one of the governor’s guards every eight hours. He stayed at a motel. Seeing a limp body didn’t appeal to him.

Jennifer determined to have Joey pray over her too. She couldn’t believe what she had seen, right at the three hour mark. Rico’s chest had heaved once as if a giant breath had entered him. His chest then started rising and falling with normal healthy, steady breaths; the monitors had also suddenly sprung to life. The surgeons arrived in a rush and personally started changing the dressings on the resurrected man, three hours after Joey had left. They kept shoving each other out of the way to peek at Lazarus’s, as they took to calling him, amazing sinew growth.

Rico continued in his unconscious state during this time of tedious bandage change, after bandage change … another merciful act of grace.

To Jennifer, the doctors’ behavior was  bizarre in so many ways. Then Joey’s voice rang in her head, “… greater things than these …”

CHAPTER 38

As promised, the governor initiated a special investigation into the lapses in security at the court house. His investigators briefed Joey one day after the incident about their preliminary findings. Joey wasn’t happy that they had more questions than answers, but she held her peace, with a little help from the Holy Ghost.

The authorities hadn’t a clue whether the men attempting to take the children were kidnappers, intent on keeping Mr. Ontiveros, the accused, silent about some incriminating knowledge involving an unknown person, person or group. Or maybe, they also considered, they were hired guns acting on Ontiveros’ behalf to likewise give his wife a case of amnesia. Or, maybe still, he so loved his children—a plausible consideration—and was concerned about their safety; which begged the question in danger from whom? 

The sniper matter was even more puzzling. The matter of the feds being called off their posts pointed to a supervisor who had gone missing and was still unaccounted for; lying either in an alley dumpster, dead … or on a beach, tanning? Had that supervisor hired the sniper, and if so, why did he shoot the hired guns? The case promised to morph into one of the many great conspiracy theories.

CHAPTER 39

Rico arrived in Las Cruces two weeks later to a jubilant reception arranged by the girls. The celebration had just ended when Joey said it was time to let him get some rest. But he was feeling fine. Joey scooted everyone outside and disappeared for almost five minutes.

She returned and quietly entered toting the two used articles of armor Rico and Jennifer had worn.

She sure doesn’t look very happy I’m here. What’d I do? Maybe they told her I wouldn’t walk again, or that I’m gonna die, he pondered. But … I feel as healthy as ever!

“I guess there was chink in this armor,” Joey said, a solemness in her voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. She held Jennifer’s armor shirt for him to see.

Is that a chastisement for putting Jennifer in danger’s way? “And … mine?” he asked.

She sat on the bed and stayed silent. Her eyes were dilated. She twirled her hair on her finger. Rico figured she wasn’t as composed as she would like him to believe.

“Michelle doesn’t seem to think so, and …”

“And you?” His heart ached just having to ask for clarification again, since … forever.

“And the girls think you’re still that knight I …”

His sullen look interrupted her; she looked deep into the eyes of the man she loved and couldn’t lie to.

Here was another miscommunication—Rico didn’t know that she didn’t know that he had tried to get out of the protection deal before she had even asked, and then again after. By the time she had asked him to, he had nearly resorted to groveling to the feds to release him, almost to the point of looking cowardly. To her, he had in the truest, Latino male, egoistical, machoistic fashion, ignored her plea.

She had to answer him. “I’m afraid … a chink in your armor? Yes.”

They sat in silence.

Joey finally rose, holding up the damaged armor.

“They kinda worked,” he said.

“Retirement?”

“Yea, retire them and …”

“I mean … you … you … ret …” Lord … Oh, what’s the use, she figured.

“Have Jennifer call the company for some free replacements. They’ll …”

“Jacob, I will n …”

“We did a good thing, Joey … at least for those kids. I don’t know what the other stuff was about … but that had nothing to do with us. And …”

“The sniper, what did that … have to do with us? Or did you secretly hire out?”

He paused to think. “Why in … no, I didn’t. I don’t have a clue … but he, or more likely, she, was a lousy shot.”

“Ooooh! If you weren’t so wounded I’d whop you good!”

Even with the thought of a highly proficient sniper on her mind, she couldn’t resist the charm of his boyish grin. She lay next to him, arms draped over him. In utter exhaustion, both fell asleep and slept through the day and night without rousing.

God put her in a deep sleep and gave her nice dreams about what her husband would accomplish—eventually. She missed her normal evening devotion time. He missed hearing her voice.

Joey woke up feeling years younger. Peace would prevail from that morning on in the Rico household for many weeks. The husband worked on keeping the wife happy; giving in to whims he knew she was making up to test his resolve.

She asked God during that morning’s devotions whether she had left anything unresolved. God showed her a few things. Convicted, she was ready to forgive Rico for the many faults she was beginning to see. And she didn’t want a temporary while-in-a-good-mood type of thing.

From Rico’s point of view, things were perfect; surely Joey had come to recognize his actions for what they were—righteous. It had to be that. She was so radiant again, at least when he got to see her. She wasn’t asking for much any more, apparently busying herself doing things.

Within weeks he secretly rebounded; keeping to himself his perfectly good health and milking every last drop of sympathy from the less discerning girls and Jennifer, who knew better, but was willing to play along.

Joey had her own secrets. She resumed her previous ministry schedule, with the exception of Bible studies at home (which she intended putting her foot down about, soon), and still routed all church matters through her cell phone.

Life was back to normal for this very blended family in Las Cruces, New Mexico, this little piece of heaven on earth.

But with Jacob Rico in the mix …

EPILOGUE

Within weeks of being out and about Rico quickly grew bored and his mental gears began to grind. What he had been planning before he was sidetracked by the minor incident soon drowned all other thoughts, including the more admirable ones. Remembering that the encryption and decryption device still sat in his safe sent the vestiges of his focus on the family to the lower echelons of priority.

The medication he was given for his injuries conveniently offered relief for his head too. That proved a convenient byproduct of the nasty incident, another excuse to have pills around. He had privately asked the doctors in Albuquerque not to disclose whatever they had discovered in his cerebral cavity.

There he was for two days fighting with himself. Hours of mental relief turned into minutes. Thoughts jumped around in his head totally unrelated to what he was trying to attend to. Even the fun he was having with the students he tutored at the alternative high school wasn’t doing the trick anymore. I’ll wait one more day, he decided, figuring he could stave off utter insanity for not much longer than that.  

The next day became a pivotal day. Concealing the mental gymnastics from Joey and the others was sapping his energy. Puzzled looks about things he blurted out got old quick. And he needed to complete something, anything, to feel of value and still the voices.

“Joey …,” he called out, “… today you and the girls are going to that … umm … Bible study thing, right?”

Joey peered into his office. By his body language and facial expressions alone—no longer an enigma—she perceived he was hiding extreme stress behind the transparent courteous and yet cynical tone.

Deep inside he was begging for her to “demand” that he stop his ongoing planning “or else.”

Instead, Joey remained silent. Not that she thought he had shelved them, she knew him too well. Besides, God was in control. Wasn’t He?

“Bueno pues, gordo. I’ll pray for you,” she murmured.

He cringed slightly. Prayer … begging ... begging to a nonexistent, impotent entity. Well, that’s really gonna help a lot, Joey … and I’m not fat.

Perhaps if Joey would lift the restriction she had placed on the doctors from speaking with him about his death experience, he would change his mind about that prayer thing. But, until she did, those doctors were bound to drive Jennifer and her crazy with their incessant calls wanting to follow up and see the walking miracle. One of them had asked his Christian neighbor a million questions and had become a believer.  

Joey sure is playing the church thing to the hilt? Rico thought. She’s too bright to even entertain such nonsense for real. It must be for resume fodder or something ... maybe a story, an exposé. Yea, that’s it. But then again …

He thought she missed his facial slip … she didn’t. She considered making light of the matter to alleviate the pang in her stomach, but deception didn’t come easily anymore. Her demeanor and absence of a good bye kiss was clear. She refused eye contact and his beckoning hand gesture as she closed the door behind her.

“Sin miedo, mujer,” he breathed, sinking into the recliner. That went well. “Yea, Jacob … without fear,” he mouthed, mocking himself. He took the device from the safe … his hand trembling.

Why the hell am I doing this! His mind raced as he argued back and forth among his inner selves. Another soul privy to the raging thoughts would definitely be directing him for help, if not calling 911. He finally mustered sufficient calmness to make a rational decision. The Man of War in him prevailed.

“Joey! Are you guys on the way out?” Rico yelled.

“That’s so subtle, Jacob,” she hushed through pursed lips from behind the closed door. “Rosangelica is right behind me,” she added more loudly.

“Her too?” he mouthed. They’re all out there. Am I, and Jennifer, the only rational individuals in this household?

 He still didn’t know that Jennifer was, by then, attending every night she was off duty. The others would agree, if they could read his mind, that he was the only individual there; everyone else was part of a team—God’s team. And of course, rationality could be colored by one’s perspective.

“Bye, Jacob!” Rosangelica chirped loudly in Spanish through the closed door, which would stay that way. Joey held possessively and firmly to the doorknob.

“Bye!” he said  wryly. Why didn’t she come in?

He became more annoyed.

“Why not joi ... ouch!” Rosangelica exclaimed, reacting to Joey’s pinch. “Para que era eso, Mom?” Rosangelica switched to Spanish as the two walked down the stairs and out the front door.

Their arguing voices trailed away until there was a dead, eerie silence. Rico was at first glad. But, after several minutes, the silence thundered in his ears. The aloneness made him shiver. Dejavu for the millionth time. A tissue dripped with sweat as he wiped his forehead. His eyes glazed over, staring at a quivering hand holding the tissue. It had to belong to someone else, it didn’t feel like his hand. An uncontrollable fit of nerves and waking flashbacks rolled over him.

He couldn’t think. The gun in the safe became an option for ending the turmoil. A split second of sane thought brought an image to mind; a trustworthy person that had helped him through the two previous times he had almost lost it completely. That was besides some fast acting medication that he hadn’t needed since that forgettable phase.

“Jennifer,” Rico called over the two-way radio feature on the cell phone.

Of course he was calling her because she was on duty on roving vehicle patrol; Sarge was posted at a safe house. At least that was his newest self-deceptive excuse. He would have called her for help if she was in China. He knew himself well enough that maybe, just maybe, his nerves would get the better of him permanently. Even now, married to a saint, he could only get himself to trust Jennifer to see and forget the bizarre battle that might ensue, like before. That trust should have been Joey’s domain by now. If she were to find out, he might have another kind of crisis to deal with.

“Yes,” she said  moments later.

He was a little calmer now. “I have an assignment.”

“Wait one, sweetheart, gotta say bye to my friend,” she said without concern about making personal cell phone calls on duty.

Joey would describe her as having no guile—Rico as fanatically truthful. He had given her permission anyway, remembering the monotony of the work.

“Say hi for me,” he said, solemnly.

The absence of a ribbing comment gave her a hint that something was up.

“He says hi back,” she announced. “OK! What’s up boss, another deranged ex-partner on the prowl?”

“No, not tonight … at least not so far,” he mumbled.

Rico flipped the chunky, dorky-looking, homemade device with his fingers. It looked like one of those memory sticks, but on steroids and round, like a goliath beetle. He mused about what to say, wanting to give Jennifer instructions without raising red flags. The wild eyes he had seen in the mirror moments before were gone. 

“Then what’s up? See, I tell you, can’t be without me!”

That was true. “I’ll need you to post yourself in front of our office,” Rico said flatly. “Across the street, back up quietly into the vacant house’s driveway, low visibility.

“Confirm, full ballistic attire,” he instructed, almost pleading. “Are you done yet?”

It just so happened that this was the first time she had forgotten to wear it. His fatherly insistence offered another hint. Red flags waved in Jennifer’s head.

Rico thought she missed the crack in his voice; no doubt her thoughts were preoccupied with a recent romance. He continually forgot whom he had hired and why; she was a world class pro, rust or no rust.

“Other parameters, Rico?” she retorted, slipping into her command voice.

So much for missing it, she always called him by his last name when she got uptight, serious or otherwise meant business. The “love,” “sweetheart,” “Sarge” and other pet names were for teasing and business as usual.

“No, just standard video coverage in rear. Persons of interest would include government types, possibly hired guns, spooks, etcetera. That’s all.”

Even though he felt secure with his back and mind covered, he gave it more thought and disliked more and more the fact that he was putting her in physical danger, again. He made an effort at thinking rationally about the decision to have her so close … just for his comfort.  

Dang, what a selfish son of a …! he admonished himself. After a few minutes of grilling and chastising himself some more, he called her up again.

“Jenny.”

“Go,” she said, short of breath. She was a tangle of arms struggling to put on the armor. She stood behind a bush wearing only the shiny-white, striped, liquid-cooled compression undershirt for the minute it took to slip on the “BS,” as she called it. It was an accident waiting to happen with cars passing by and a healthy silhouette more exposed than she knew. Not that she was taking her time on purpose. Her nasty shoulder wound was really tender and taking its sweet time healing, at least compared to Rico’s wounds, which she asked God about and had no answer yet; was she lacking faith?

“New instructions … go back on roving … or whatever young lady. Dial your friend up again and enjoy,” he said.

Her stomach tensed. Not again, Jacob! The twinge of tremble in his voice wouldn’t have been perceptible to anyone else, even Joey.

To Jennifer it was engrained from the one time during the last combat engagement together, in that same voice he had said, “Bye, Jenny, go back with the team, I’m sorry …” seconds before he plowed forward against an onslaught of enemy fire. She had frozen in place—and still felt tinges of guilt—before rushing behind him and knocking him to the ground just as incoming friendly air cover strafed the ground all around him. Rico cursed himself to no end when he had to tend to shrapnel she caught in the belly.

As she rubbed the skin just right of her belly button, she remembered Joey saying she had asked Rico about retiring, because she sensed something big coming. Bigger than what they endured weeks before even? She had wondered at the time. But right now she didn’t feel a sense of foreboding, so she ignored the warning. Instead, she almost blurted over the radio that maybe a company trip to the Bahamas was due, forgetting they were hardly a paradise these days.  

“Negative, I’m right where I want to be ... Jacob,” she insisted, in a tone closer to what one would use to comfort a scared child.

His nerves settled down. Never mind that she was obviously blowing smoke. It was both comforting and discomforting all at the same time—and just plain eerie to him—how she could get into his mind.

He didn’t answer for almost a minute.

“Thanks buddy!” he finally whispered. 

That brought half a smile to Jennifer’s face. She knew she had called it right … as usual, but …

Minutes later she was on alert, wearing the gear father Jacob insisted on.

“Active,” she whispered back into her radio.

She monitored things via Internet surveillance software. The laptop screen next to her showed the rotating views transmitted by the various cameras, motion sensors showed no activity outside either. All was clear, so far. 

Rico gave her a thumbs-up through the window.

Ten tense minutes later he finally logged on. The device still sat on the desk, already thirty plus minutes since Joey had left and twenty-five minutes that Jennifer had arrived. He made a final decision to again enter the slippery slope of the cyber space realm; really deep this time. He did not like the absence of dimensions or intuition it presented—identity only an illusion that came and went with whims without recourse to the deceived.

Rico also knew good and well that in that realm every activity was subject to exposure to the real world at will … and often with destructive consequences. He was making himself a sitting duck to government types bent on control. Not to mention other forces equally dangerous to liberty … and life.

He got online after disconnecting the camera and had until the device was inserted and engaged to bail out. As he half-heartedly chatted with others online, the hint came rather bluntly.

“Now,” read a line totally out of context.

Gingerly handling the device and banishing from his mind the last ounce of doubt, he inserted it into one of the four front-mounted USB ports.

“Watch this be a sick joke at my expense!” he whined to himself.

If Joey had been there, or Jennifer, they would’ve chimed in, Hush up! Stop your whining! He followed their imagined command. The five LED’s haphazardly placed inside the clear plastic device did a little blinking dance. 

His screen went black. “Crap!” he hollered. “I can’t believe it!” He was about to let out a stream of choice phrases, in English and Spanish, when text appeared on the screen with a beep.

“This is White Dog,” was all it said.

“This is Jacob Rico,” he typed in response.

“Use a moniker, just in case you’ve got something serious on your mind and through some breech of protocol we get pin-pointed. Odds are real slim for that. Not even the NSA can get through my encryption and into our space. You’d have to be Prime Terrorist Number One for them to tap your PC and grab the key from the little device I gave you. For that they’d be spending thousands and thousands a day to monitor you; and you’re squeaky clean.”

That still wasn’t reassuring to Rico. Why’d he have say NSA? At least nothing comes up.

“Where is that space?” Rico inquired, thinking he had a bragging loony.

“Everywhere … and nowhere … at the same time. Freaky huh?”

The twenty-eight year-old prodigy had been tossed out of three Ivy League universities because of supposed delusional problems. Years before, he had managed to construct a working quantum computer. When the government heard the rumors they attempted to confiscate it for reasons of national security. Fearing for his life he managed to destroy it and the technical papers.

A well concocted ruse with a phony device led the authorities to publicly declare the whole matter a hoax. It got him off the hook, but the cost was enormous. The ridicule was immediate and drove him into the shadows of laboratories, moving about like a nomad, until that also was taken away.

This was something Rico wouldn’t discover for a while. Just then he wasn’t exactly in the mood for enlightenment about quantum matters—not that he would understand one iota. Rico pecked away at the keys with two proficient fingers.

“About that girl. She said she was with you voluntarily. I gotta tell you, a sweet person like that can be overwhelmed by a … let’s say, ‘different’ person like you sound to me. If I find out you’re using her like a toy … I must warn you … I’ll find you … and … snuff you out.”

He was about to remove the less then probable threat, but his finger tapped the enter key accidentally. Oops! he thought. How the heck would I find him anyway?’

“You just gave me motive. I’ll have our conversation and that threat recorded for timed delay, which I’ll reset every day, in case I go missing. My question … is there any other reason that would prompt you to do such a nasty thing to me?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Demonstrate that you are a danger to my family and friends.” This he meant.

“Any others? You didn’t mention being a danger to you.”

“Threat to me … alone … no.”

“Why?” typed the puzzled stranger.

“Simple ... I’m irrelevant.”

After what seemed a long time he read, “And you call me different! Pleeeease! Expect hard contact soon. P.S. I took the liberty of installing a stealth spy program on your PC to keep tabs on your contact with any government agency or another cyber-hack besides me. That’s why we chatted so long. We won’t next time.

“BYE! P.S.S. This green-eyed girl says you’re quite handsome, for an old guy, and not irrelevant to her.” 

That’s a positive—something to build on maybe, but, for what? Old?

The screen went blank. The whole exchange had taken place in a span of less than four minutes. Rico felt totally drained even though the last “P.S.S.” had raised his spirits a little. He figured it was an equitable trade, him threatening to kill the potentially nice guy and the guy monitoring him. 

Fair is fair! he thought. Of course he has the upper hand. Rico wondered if the person he had just communicated with was the rather hulky fellow who had passed him the device in Roswell. Why can’t geeks look like geeks? Life used to be so simple.

Rico strolled over to the front office as he mulled things over and sat on the futon sofa. He would wait and see if the communiqué had been intercepted—connecting him to who could just as well have been an international terrorist. And then maybe he could be an over zealous government type on a cyber-dragnet trying to make a name for himself by just now alerting a supervisor and strike team.

It never occurred to him that the “Minority Report” scenario was as improbable as improbable can be; he hadn’t discussed anything relevant. Besides that, his mind wasn’t contemplating a homicide—and what he was contemplating wasn’t clear even to him. As yet it was just a hazy delusion he would still try to expel from a foggy mind.

Nevertheless, ideas of how long he would languish in jail even with insufficient evidence danced around his head. That would have been the best scenario as far as he was concerned. Others that crossed his increasingly paranoid mind were slightly more graphic. He figured with the multitude of permits he had been requesting from the security section, he had probably already tripped numerous intelligence surveillance flags. A misunderstanding could cascade into a cascade of other misunderstandings … and so forth. The Homeland Security Act, rooted in the former Patriot Act, had such a circular nature to it. He was playing with fire, and had nary a fire extinguisher handy; a reasonable cover story didn’t seem feasible.

Maybe if he felt a warning touch from the long arm of the law, Jacob Rico would stop the tsunami he threatened to cause.

Then again … there was destiny.