The call Curt was expecting from Trent Harvey came at nine fifteen Monday morning. He picked up on the fifth ring. Waiting that long to answer would let the caller know he wasn’t some overexcited amateur. With a “get to the point and no nonsense” voice, he spoke up. “Tell me what you have.”
“The latest update.”
“Go ahead.”
“The transport is in motion, everything is right on schedule, and no changes to the route have been noted. The bus with one chase car is headed south on Interstate 94. They’ll exit onto State Road 30 and go west until they reach Illinois Route 1 in Chicago Heights. They’ll take that south, where you’ll intercept the bus between Crete and Beecher in Goodenow. It’s an unincorporated area and heavily wooded. That should be the best place to make your move. Any questions?”
“No. We’re waiting south of the city and will head in that direction now. We’ll be ready and waiting for their arrival.” Curt clicked off the call, pulled out of the gas station he’d turned in to, and continued on. The van was disposable and would be left behind once John was secure and everyone else was dead. Nubby and Lon, in a stolen and unassuming Honda Odyssey, followed John. That Honda would be their temporary transportation while traveling through Illinois, but they would change vehicles a few more times, with three states still to go. Matamoros would be their point of entry and home base in Mexico, and they would get there through their connections in Brownsville, Texas.
Curt called Nubby and gave him the latest updates. “It’s going to go down in Goodenow. Just follow closely behind me and watch where I pull off. We should be there in about twenty minutes, and I’ll know the perfect place when I see it. The bus will be passing through in about forty-five minutes, so we need to find the right spot and get set up.”
Curt ended the call and continued on. He was excited. Soon, his brother would be back at the helm in person, and their empire would grow exponentially. They’d discuss what the future had in store for Detective McCord once their feet were safely planted on Mexican soil.
Three miles south of Crete, a one-lane gravel road caught Curt’s eye. He turned in and waved at Nubby to pull in alongside him. Curt exited the van and went to the driver’s window of the Odyssey.
“Hurry up and get out. Unload the van so I can ditch it farther in.” With the van wiped clean the previous night, that was one less thing Curt needed to worry about. “Put your gloves on before you touch the back doors.”
The men did as told, and the weaponry was unloaded. The van’s tires kicked up gravel as Curt sped down the path another quarter mile in. He drove into the overgrown brush and exited the rear doors then ran back to join the others.
“How’s it coming?” he asked as he glanced down the road then at his watch.
“It’s all good. Everything is ready to go. We’ve got the grenade launcher loaded, and both M24 rifles are ready to fire.”
“Good. I’ll take care of the bus with the grenade since it’s my brother’s life that’s on the line. You two take out the chase car and anyone that steps out of the bus that isn’t John. Understand? If you have any questions, you better ask them now, because we’ve got about seven minutes before that bus shows up.”
Both men shrugged, then Lon responded. “We’ve got this, Mr. Vance. I’ve been shooting guns since I was seven. It’ll go as smooth as silk.”
“It better, or you two will be the next ones to die.”
Curt pressed the binoculars against his eyes. The long stretch of straight road would make it much easier to see the approaching prison bus. He waited and watched. Ten after ten came and went and then ten fifteen. He paced. Anxiety was creeping in. “Where the hell are they?”
“Freeway traffic could have slowed them down,” Nubby said.
“Maybe.” Curt lowered the glasses and wiped the perspiration off his forehead with his sleeve. He raised the glasses again and peered through. “I think this is them. It looks like a gray bus.” Curt lowered the binoculars and lifted the launcher to his shoulder. “Get those rifles ready and take out that car as soon as I hit the bus. Damn it, John. You better be sitting in the back.”
Curt held his position until the bus was just under a football field’s length away then fired. Hitting the driver’s-side engine area caused the front of the bus to explode and sent it careening out of control. It tipped on its side, rolled, and slid several hundred feet closer to them before it came to a stop.
“Take out the car now!”
Gunfire pelted the chase car, making it look like a sieve. Surviving that hit was next to impossible, and nobody attempted to exit the vehicle.
“Head for the bus but stay behind cover. There’s supposed to be two guards and a driver inside. I want to see three uniformed bodies, and don’t forget that John is wearing orange coveralls.” Curt yelled out John’s name as they cautiously approached the bus. “John, John, call out if you’re okay!”
Movement inside caught Curt’s eye. One of the guards, near a blown-out window, was crawling toward the back. “Shoot him, Lon.”
Rifle fire cracked, and the guard went down. Seconds later, a hand waved wildly near the back of the bus. “It’s me, John. Help me out of here. I’m pretty sure everyone is dead.”
Curt jerked his head toward the back of the bus. “Get him out and kill anyone else that moves. Hurry up! I’ll get the Odyssey.” Curt bolted for the vehicle, jumped in, and gunned it. He locked the brakes along the rear door of the overturned bus. “Get him into the back of the van.”
With John’s arms slung over their shoulders, Nubby and Lon helped him into the back seat of the Odyssey and loaded the weapons through the rear doors. Lon tossed a blanket over the weapons, and Curt dove into the driver’s seat. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that a few bloody scrapes were John’s only injuries.
“You okay?”
John managed a grin. “Hell yeah. That was a wild ride!”
Curt slapped the steering wheel and laughed as he sped off. “We did it, bro. You’re free.”