The Veteran

Chapter Five

We drove for almost an hour and a half, and I could tell Jake was getting antsy. The next rest stop wasn't for another 25 miles, and he was getting restless. I could do with the leg stretch myself. The road signs showed a small town, Forsyth, Georgia, a few miles ahead. We took the exit and made a left at the stop sign at the bottom of the hill. The proximity to the interstate would make it easier getting back on. What sucked about this situation is I knew I could move faster and better without Jake, and he would be safer without me around, but I wouldn't leave him. He saved my ass twice, and most important, he was helping me remain calm. I wasn't sure what they were using to track me, but with the change in burner phones, I hoped for no unexpected encounters. Remaining invisible to them was my highest priority.

It was a quaint little town, with a few traffic lights, a couple dozen shops in the center of town surrounding your typical southern town square. It was late morning, and people were walking their dogs on leashes. I didn't want any undue attention from the townsfolk for breaking a simple ordinance and drove around, getting my bearings. I found a feed store where I pulled in and stopped to buy a leash. As I was in another state, I decided it best to leave my pistol in the S.U.V. as I didn't want to risk someone getting too curious about me. I had the out-of-state temporary tags against me and didn't need any undue attention. Jake tried to jump out when I did, but I told him to sit, which to my amazement, he did. I hadn't spent a lot of time training him, so this must have been my wife's work. I rolled down the window about halfway, but not enough for him slip out, and I walked inside.

As I entered the store, the clerk came out from the back and asked if I needed any assistance. I offered a polite no thank you and spotted the leashes and collars on the far wall. I had never had Jake on a leash, nor had he ever worn a collar. This should prove interesting. The clerk tried to make small talk, noticing I was from out-of-state, and I told him I was visiting some relatives in Atlanta which quelled his curiosity, so I paid for my items, wished him a pleasant day, and walked out the door.

Jake was excited to see me come back, but when I didn't let him out, his excitement faded. I pulled out of the parking spot and drove to the other side of the town square, where I put the collar on him and attached the leash. It didn't seem to bother him, and as I got out of the S.U.V., he bounded out and started pulling me toward the grassy area. I felt like an absentee father, not knowing what my child had learned. He didn't pay any attention to the collar around his neck or that I had him on a leash. Again, it must have been my wife's doing.

He did his business, and we headed back to the S.U.V. As I was getting in, the local town cop pulled up, rolled his window down, and motioned me over.

Great. What now?

Nothing against law enforcement, as many of my friends are either cops or work for some federal agencies, but I can't stand ignorance. From my experiences, in some small towns, the local law enforcement officers are ignorant, living a simple existence with closed minds. I hoped this guy wasn't like that.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Nope, just passing through. My dog had to do his business, and I'm kind of tired of eating fast food so, any recommendations?"

"Well, Forsyth Country Cooking is just around the corner, but they don't allow animals. I see you're from Florida and noticed your waist holster. You're not carrying, are you?"

"No officer, it's on my front seat, but isn't Georgia an open carry state?"

"It is, but you're not from around here, so I'll need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance. Would you happen to have a permit for your firearm?"

Great. Fucking great. He wants my permit, will run it and someone if they are monitoring my information, will see the inquiry.

"Sure, officer. I have my Florida concealed weapons permit, and my license and stuff are inside my center console. Let me get that for you,"

"It's Sheriff, by the way. I'll get it. I need you to step to the front of the car and put your hands on the hood."

Damn. This is not going well.

I moved to the front the SUV, put my hands on the hood, and waited.

He opened my door and retrieved my pistol from the front seat, ejecting the magazine and the round from the chamber. He looked at it for a moment, "Nice weapon. Not a lot of people carry this model of Sig. This is special-forces-issue, isn't it?"

He was either former military or was a fan of weapons.

"Yes, Sir, it is."

He stepped away from the car, holding my weapon in his left hand and resting his right hand on his own weapon, "Why don't you grab your license, registration, proof of insurance, and that concealed carry permit now."

I stepped to the car door, reached into the center console, and retrieved my wallet and concealed carry permit. I handed the paperwork over to him.

"I'm going to hold on to this for a few minutes," gesturing to my handgun, "while I run your license, registration, and your permit," he said. Like I had a choice.

I hoped he wasn't curious about what I had in the back. That would create questions I didn't want to answer. The automatic weapons, for which I didn't have a permit or license, would land me in jail. In my current position, if I were right, running the check would soon compromise my location. Something I didn't need.

A few minutes passed, he returned, and handed me paperwork and concealed weapons permit and started talking, "Mr. Hunter, everything checks out. Looks like the registration is delayed, but valid. New vehicle?

"Yes, picked it up a few days ago."

"I'm going to put your firearm on the front passenger seat. Hey, you look familiar. Aren't you that guy that stopped that robbery in Tampa?"

"Yeah, that was me."

"I read about what you did on the internet, and that was a good thing. I don't recommend civilians do that kind of stuff, but you're not a typical civilian, are you Mr. Hunter?"

I doubted that he read about it on the internet, my name had to be flagged in the system in some way but didn't want to argue with him, and I hoped the conversation would end. If I was right, I didn't have much time before they would be hot on my tail again.

"I happened to be there when it went down. Anyone else would've done the same. If there's nothing else, officer, I'll need to be on my way. I'm running a little behind and still need to grab some food. I think I'll stop by that place you recommended before I hit the road."

"Nope, nothing else from me. Drive safe now, and make sure you try their fried catfish. It's the best around."

"Awesome. I'll do that. You have a great day, Sheriff."

That was too damned close. I had to move as soon as possible. On the way into town, I had seen a grocery store. Hoping they carried burner phones and cards, I pulled into the parking lot. I left Jake in the SUV, rolled the windows down, and walked inside. I picked up two new phones and calling cards, some snacks and drinks for the road, food and water bowls for in the SUV, and more dog food. I needed to make tracks and couldn't afford to stop all the time to feed him. A young lady checked me out, and I walked to the SUV with my bags.

Sitting in the SUV, I opened one of the phones, activated it, and called my wife and told her to text Diego this new number, which she did while on the phone. She said Diego had stopped by and given her his new burner phone number told him she would text it to me. I explained what had happened and the possibility of my position being compromised. I would need to put some distance between me and my present location. She agreed, and we ended the call. I rang Diego.

"Montoya," as always.

"Diego, the local LEO ran my license, and concealed weapons permit. The Russians are not amateurs, and I need to get the fuck out of Dodge before they pick up on it. I'm heading out now, but I need you to send me whatever info you have."

"Well, hola to you too, my friend." Sarcasm was his strong suit. "I called my contact at the NSA about those last two dudes. They were definitely heavy hitters. Murder, extortion, money laundering, arms deals, the whole kit, and caboodle. They are into everything! Word on the street is they are looking for someone, and that someone is you, and now, with a bounty on your head for 100K." He paused for a second, "maybe I should kill you myself."

"Fuck you, asshole. You can't kill me. I'd haunt your Colombian ass for eternity, so talk to me. What are my options? I can't keep driving all over the place, and this vehicle is a piece of shit. I'm surprised it made it this far. He ran my tag, so I need to ditch this thing ASAP."

"Let me make a couple of calls. In the meantime, haul ass out, hit the interstate, and make tracks, amigo. I'll call you back in 60 minutes."

"Gracias, Diego. I'm fucking starving, bro. The LEO told me about a little restaurant, so I'm going to grab a bite and wait for your call. I have to show my face."

"Ok. Stay frosty, my friend. Out."

I looked at my watch, 10:30, and set the timer for 60 minutes. I doubled back into town and found the restaurant less than a mile down the road. The cop who had pulled me over was sitting inside having coffee, and he welcomed me to join him. I didn't want to be rude or rouse more suspicion, so I sat in the booth across from him.

"So, Mr. Hunter. What brings you up this way?

"My Aunt Sophie. She's not doing too well. My cousins are heading out of town for the week, so I volunteered to come up and look after her."

"Does she live around here?"

"No, Sir. She's up in Tennessee.

"Whereabouts in Tennessee? I have some family up that way, but don't make it up there often," he asked.

I couldn't tell if he was fishing for information or was just being curious and friendly. Either way, I wasn't amused but played along. I didn't have an Aunt Sophie and knew few people in Tennessee, so this was a cat and mouse game we were playing.

"I haven't been up this way in a while, so I'm waiting for my cousins to call and give me directions. She moved out of her house last year and is now living with my cousins somewhere near Knoxville."

I had no clue where I was going. It could've been in the opposite direction.

"You still got some driving to do. I don't want to eat up your time, plus I should get back on duty. Like I said earlier, try the catfish. You can't go wrong with it."

He stood, placed his hat on his head, and reached to shake my hand, which I reciprocated. "You have a safe drive, Mr. Hunter. Hope your aunt gets better soon."

"Thanks, Sheriff. I appreciate that."

He left the diner, and the waitress approached me. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's always nosy about people and their business. What would you like to drink, honey?" She winked.

"I think I'll have some sweet tea and the catfish dinner. The Sheriff told me you have the best catfish around."

"Considering we're the only ones that sell catfish around here, yeah, we are the best, I'll be right back with your food and drink." She chuckled as she walked away. I guess that was a running joke.

For a little hole in the wall joint, as most places like this were, the food was terrific, and the service was excellent. I finished, throwing the leftovers in a box for Jake, paid my bill and walked out. The Sheriff was sitting in his car down the street.

I pulled out of the parking spot and wasn't surprised to see him pull out and follow me. He was going to make sure I left town. I hit the main road and punched the accelerator. I needed to return to the interstate pronto. I glanced over at Jake, "Well, back to it, buddy." I wished I had Jake's life right then, except for getting blown across the hotel room. I was sure he didn't enjoy that, but he was no worse for wear. I needed him, and he needed me. What a pair we were.

My watch timer went off, and I powered up the phone. Diego was never late. It rang, and I answered. He didn't wait for me to say anything.

"John, do you remember Viktor?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

Viktor Kreschenko was one of the few Russians I knew. He had served on the teams with Diego and me. His grandparents had escaped from Russia with him and his sister. They claimed political asylum and got their citizenship after his parents were killed by the KGB. He was also one of the few people who spoke fluent Russian, but I hadn't spoken with him in over ten years.

<>

"Well, he's alive and well and heard about what you did. Called you a mudak, meaning asshole in Russian."

Yep, that was Viktor.

"So, are you going to make me guess, or what?"

"Viktor did some poking around in the Russian community, and you've stirred up a hornet's nest. Those mobsters are highly pissed at you. Here's the kicker. The two assholes you tagged at the convenience store, one of them was the nephew of the head of the Russian Mob in the U.S. Damn, bro, you stepped in it bad, and they are pissed as fuck at you."

"Great. So, who are we talking about? What kind of reach?"

"According to Viktor, they are the strongest "mafiya" in North America. Their fingers are in everything from Canada to Central America. Viktor has a place for you to crash. The problem is, I have his location, but not yours, so I can't tell you how to get to him."

Information was getting to the Russians somehow, but Diego had a new burner phone, so I took a chance and told him where I was.

"Damn, Compadre. You're a lot closer than I thought. Based on the info from Viktor, you're about five hours away, if you're doing highway speeds. From the main highway, it's about thirty miles off the beaten path to his cabin, so it'll going to be slow going. I'll send you the address. You got a map?"

"Nope, been driving by my sense of smell, fucker."

"Ok, funny guy, you're going to need a map because it's in the boonies. I'll send you his burner number as soon as he sends it to me. Call him when you're about an hour out. He'll be waiting for your call, and he'll meet you. Later and be safe."

The call ended, and within 10 minutes, the text from Diego came in with the address and Viktor's number. It was near Knoxville outside of a small city called Jefferson City. I wrote them down, deleted the message, turned my phone off

I hit the interstate and pushed my speed up close to 80. Most of the traffic was moving along, so I didn't worry about the highway patrol. This beast of a vehicle didn't stand out and was holding up, although it looked like it had been through hell. Jake slumbered as I pondered my options. Traffic was minimal, and I put close to 70 miles between me and that small town in less than an hour. It wasn't enough of a lead for my comfort, but it would have to do. First, I needed a map. Where I was going, you didn't go without one.

It didn't take long, and the signs showed a truck stop ahead. They always had maps. Making a quick exit, I pulled in, and was in and out in five minutes with a Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer, which showed all the backroads in detail as well as topographical maps for most areas. I found the address which, according to Diego, was about 30 miles out in the middle of nowhere. I had about 4½ hours before I reached Viktor's place and I had to make haste. If I was running late, Viktor might bail, and I couldn't risk losing this opportunity. He had always been a little paranoid, and with the Russian Mafia now on my ass, I was sure he wasn't too excited about getting involved. Having never dealt with either the Russian Mafia or the skinheads, I didn't have much to go except they were tenacious and hell-bent on finding me and killing me.

The next three hours went by without incident; I stopped once for gas and once for caffeine. After leaving the main road, I passed a few cars on the two-lane highways. At thirty minutes out, according to the map, I found one of those little picnic areas on the side of the road and turned on my phone. Two messages were waiting for me; One was from Diego, which read CALL ASAP, and the second from Victor saying he was Oscar Mike, which meant on the move to our rendezvous point.

I dialed Diego. "Dude, we got trouble." No Montoya.

"What's going on, Diego? Everything ok?"

"Nope. Viktor called me back and told me the word on the street is you're heading to us and they are sending people to intercept. They're looking to take Mary and the boys to flush you out?"

"Damn it. I should have never headed in your direction. Diego, you need to get them the hell out of there."

"Working on that. Three more assists are in route, and they'll be here in about 60 mikes.

"Dude, you can't let anything happen to them. Promise me, bro."

He was silent for a second. "I got your back, bro. Nothing will happen to them as long as I'm still breathing. I promise. Everyone will be safe. I promise. Gotta run. Call Mary. She's scared shitless. Out," and he hung up.

I dialed her number and sensed the panic in her voice as soon as she answered, "John."

"Mary, I talked with Diego. You're scared, and you should be. Diego has called for some help, and they'll arrive in about an hour. They are going to evacuate you and your parents. Nobody can be there. No one, you understand. No one. These are nasty people, and they won't hesitate to kill anyone that gets in their way."

"I can't tell if my parents will leave or not. You know how my dad is."

"Let me talk to him."

She passed the phone to her dad, and I started without waiting.

"Frank, you need to listen. We are in grave danger. These people are dangerous and won't hesitate to kill everyone. Even Diego doesn't want to go up against them, and we have not idea as to how many people they are sending in your direction. They are coming to take Mary wclreadability0 wcl0-readability hed">b>ary and the boys to flush me out."

"John, you brought this down on us. This is all your fault."

"You're right, Frank. It is my fault, and I'm doing my best to fix it, but I can't have you interfering. The FBI is trying to help, and my friends and I are doing what we were good at, what we were trained to do, the training you don't have. I need you to put your pride away for a second and think about your wife, your daughter, and your grandkids. I'm dead serious when I say you don't want to try to go up against these people. Nobody wants to put you in the ground, and that will happen if you stay. Mary and the boys will be leaving, with or without you. Am I clear on this?"

Nobody had ever talked to Frank this way, and while I understood his position, he needed to understand mine and the dilemma in which he would put them if he decided to stay.

The line was quiet for a few seconds.

"Ok, John. What do I need to do?"

At least he wasn't letting his pride get them killed.

"Listen to Diego and do whatever he says. I trust him. The others are on their way now. They will take you out of there and keep you safe."

"Ok. I'll do it, but after this is all over, we're gonna talk."

I ignored his comment, "Put Mary back on."

Mary returned to the line, "Diego told me where you're heading. Please be safe. Diego will take care of us. He's done ok so far."

"I need you to listen to whatever Diego and other guys say. Do not deviate in this situation. They know what they're doing and will take you somewhere safe. I will be in touch as soon as I can. I love you. Gotta go."

I felt helpless, unable to do anything for Mary and the boys. Relying on Diego was the single remaining option to keep them safe. My priority, however, was to find a safe place to hole up.

Viktor Kreschenko was my option.