One Rule - No Surrender Read online

  One Rule:

  No Surrender

  By

  Lawrence Ambrose

  Copyright 2016

  All Rights Are Reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced without permission of the author.

  Proofread and Edited by Sweet Syntax

  Cover by Lawrence Ambrose

  COMMENTS, QUESTIONS, OR COMPLAINTS? Please email me at: [email protected]

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 1

  SOCRATES MADE A FUNNY snuffing noise as Thalma loaded groceries into the back seat of her pickup. The big Rottweiler sat up in the passenger seat, muscles bunching. Thalma followed his dark brown eyes across the Raley's parking lot to the new Western States mini-bank in the Kmart building. A blue Chevy SUV screeched out of the lot and hit the parkway in a plume of blue exhaust smoke, roaring north.

  The sound had barely faded when three men wearing ski masks and carrying plastic bags burst from the Western States bank, racing across the lot and then stopping to look frantically in all directions.

  "No way," Thalma muttered.

  A young blond woman loading bags into her white minivan let out a startled shriek as the men rushed over and shoved her into the van, clambering in after her. The engine started and the minivan rolled out of the lot at a sedate speed.

  "No fucking way," said Thalma.

  One quick call to the police with a description of the station wagon and the men and she could go on her merry way. But then maybe the police would be too late or would go all amateur hour and blow the rescue or negotiations.

  Socrates whined. Thalma sighed. She started the pickup and slapped it into drive. Once on the parkway she kicked the gas hard enough to pull up within a couple of cars of the white minivan at a red light. The van waited patiently along with the other vehicles. The bank robbers weren't completely stupid. No reason to draw attention to themselves when the police probably weren't aware of the minivan.

  Thalma reached under her seat and triggered the release of a small section of floor panel, retrieving a Glock 20 and a spare clip, which she placed on the center console. Socrates nosed it and whined with excitement. The dog had an unhealthy love of firearms.

  "Do not slobber on my pistol," Thalma growled.

  The traffic eased forward. She stayed two cars back from the minivan, which was starting to drive a bit faster, more aggressively, as they headed south on Emerald Bay Road. Thalma took time to question her sanity. She had a thousand compelling reasons to stay out of this and no good plan.

  She felt the weight of her cell in her front pocket. I can still make that call. Make the call and just drive away, back to her and Louis's safe little retreat among the trees. She had frozen groceries thawing, for fuck's sake. And Louis was coming home for lunch. And today "lunch" was mostly a euphemism.

  The white minivan turned off what had become Highway 50 two miles south of town. Thalma followed them into a residential area of steep-roofed homes tucked within the trees. She and Louis had checked the area out when they'd been house-shopping.

  She stayed back a bit more as the minivan wound its way deeper into the neighborhood and pulled into a driveway. Thalma rolled by, slowing. The adjacent driveway was empty, and without further calculation Thalma turned into it. A large German Shepherd trotted out, issuing a low snarl. This was getting complicated.

  Thalma grabbed a bag of groceries, tucked the Glock in her back pocket, and climbed out just as the men – now minus ski masks - were dragging the young blond woman out of the van. Two of them held what looked like small garbage bags – filled with cash, Thalma assumed.

  The German Shepherd ignored her as she strode past, choosing to jump up on his hind legs at the passenger window and engage Socrates in a snarling stare-down. Socrates returned his stare, unimpressed.

  The two men holding the woman eyed Thalma coldly as she crossed the corridor of grass between the driveways. Two of the men were maybe mid-twenties, buzz cuts, while the third was a wiry, acne-scarred thirty-something with dirty blond hair drawn back in a pony tail.

  "Barbara!" she greeted the young woman with a big smile. "Hey, what are you doing out here? And who are your friends?"

  The woman regarded her with uncomprehending and terrified eyes. Thalma kept on coming, her smile locking in place.

  "Look, lady, we're kinda busy here," said the dude with the pony tail. "Maybe you could –"

  Thalma stumbled as she reached the driveway, the grocery bag flying from her grasp. Oranges and fresh strawberries burst from their containers and rolled toward the men's feet. The stumbling act had placed her within a few feet of the group. As they frowned at the attacking fruit, Thalma continued forward, still smiling, and punched the man clutching the woman's elbow in the face. He flopped against the minivan and sank to the concrete. A quick sideways kick caught a second man in the breadbasket, propelling him backward and down. That left the pony-tailed guy with the bad complexion, who was reaching into his waistband. Thalma whipped her pistol out and centered it on his chest. His hand froze.

  Thalma nodded to the girl. "Get in your car and leave."

  "To the police...?"

  "Wherever you want to go."

  The young woman staggered backwards and into her car. The van squealed out of the driveway. The two men on the cement moaned and stirred. The pony-tailed guy had his hand on what appeared to be a large knife.

  "Seriously?" she asked. "Your knife against 10mm 200 grain bullets? You must be feeling lucky."

  "How about you just let me go and take the money instead?" He nodded to the cash-filled bags on the ground.

  "How about you just lie down on your stomach and put your hands behind your neck?"

  "Lady, I'd sure like you down on your stomach," Pony Tail snickered.

  "Never mind."

  Thalma kicked him in the groin. He collapsed into a fetal position. She hadn't pulled her kick quite as much as usual, so she suspected he might need emergency medical attention. Neither he nor his klutzy band of robbers would be going anywhere soon. She patted them down quickly, removing two pistols and a cheap assault knife from the groaning Pony Tail.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. Thalma emptied the guns and tossed them in some nearby shrubs. Time to go.

  The German Shepherd turned from glaring at an impassive Socrates and bared his fangs as Thalma approached. She walked past him without a glance. The dog made no move to close with her.

  Inside her pickup, Thalma noted what seemed to be a look of longing in Socrates' gaze.

  "Female, right?" she asked.

  "DUDE, WHAT took you so long?"

  "Please don't call me dude."

  Thalma tossed her keys and grocery bags on the dining room table as Louis stared at her with his hands perched on his slim hips.

  "You look like an angry hausfrau," she said.

  "I feel like one." He cracked a small smile. "Seriously, I rushed home early and spent twenty minutes scrubbing off the grease just to be ready for you."

  "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

  Thalma held out her arms. Louis shook his head and walked into her embrace. They exchanged a soft kiss.

  "Mmm," she said. "You do clean up nice."

  "Unfortunately, I need to get back
to meet a customer in twenty minutes. And Joe's going to need some help lifting that jeep suspension." He leaned back a little and peered into her eyes. "I know that look. What happened?"

  "I had to take out some bank robbers."

  "I hope it wasn't anywhere expensive."

  Thalma gave him a sparse smile. "I'm being serious. Some men took a girl hostage at the new Western States bank across from Raley's. Their ride deserted them, apparently, so they grabbed this woman and drove off in her minivan. And I went after them."

  Louis eased back out of her grasp, staring at her in disbelief. "I was really hoping you were kidding. So you followed them and managed to somehow get this girl away from them?"

  "Yeah. They stopped at a house and I pulled over near them and pretended to be a friend of the girl. That got me close enough and..." She shrugged.

  "You did your thing." Louis sucked in a steadying breath. "Did anyone see you? I mean, besides the bank robbers and the girl?"

  "I don't know. I don't think so."

  Louis nodded, his smile pained. "Babe, I get it. You couldn't just stand there and do nothing. But wasn't that the whole point of us moving here – to, you know, lay low and not attract any attention?"

  "Yeah, I know. But, I mean, what are the odds that I'd run into a bunch of bank robbers? It was just one of those freak things."

  Louis stared at her, his lips caught halfway between a frown and a begrudging smile. He glanced at his cell. "Well, shit, I gotta go. We can talk more after work."

  Thalma snagged his waist with one arm as he moved past her.

  "Sorry, Thal, but I'm really not in the mood."

  "But I am."

  She drew him closer. He planted his feet, but they just slid on the hardwood floor until they were nose to nose. Louis looked up into her blue eyes. Sometimes, like now, they burned with a cold fire. He was a mouse locking gazes with a cobra. A very turned-on mouse. Damn her.

  "You're all excited after beating up some dudes?"

  "Maybe." She glanced back over her shoulder as Socrates released a growling whine. "I think Socrates got excited, too."

  "Great." He pushed against her arms. Might as well be pushing against a stone statue.

  Thalma leaned down and their lips met in a warm, moist caress. They both shivered.

  "Okay," Louis gasped. "Screw my afternoon appointment."

  "Me, first."

  ANOTHER FUN afternoon touring her digital kingdom while the beautiful alpine summer day drifted by outside. But there would be time later for a long run through the evergreen forests followed by some heavy lifting in their basement gym. Now her painstakingly constructed virtual world needed tending.

  The FBI and DHS had shrunk her kingdom, but more in the way a person might reduce the size of a tree or hedge by trimming branches. Their probes had found the obvious outer branches of her shell corporations, but had stopped there, as she'd intended. She'd gone through a lot of trouble to make it seem that those corporations were all there was.

  Murphy's people – or ex-people (if he'd actually turned over a new leaf)? – had made greater inroads. Between forcing her to shut down shell corporations and associated operations, including her former farmhouse – and their own physical and cyber attacks -they'd pared her assets from roughly 120 million down to around 50. On the plus side, she believed that by abandoning all the accounts that could possibly point to their present location she'd presumably created a safe, insulated fiefdom for her and her "hubby." Just off Emerson Bay Road west of Tahoe, their closest neighbor was a half-mile away.

  The house, of course, was owned by a property investment firm - in turn owned by a local realty and vacation property company – to which she and Louis sent a modest monthly lease payment. Almost all of her businesses now were completely legitimate and reasonably profitable, complemented by a handful of shady shell corporations lurking on the periphery of her virtual kingdom.

  To the good citizens of Tahoe and the world, they were Mr. and Mrs. Logan and Theresa McDowell. He, the hardworking young owner of McDowell Custom Auto Works; she, the stay-at-home wife who dabbles with various hobbies and has supper and slippers waiting for her man when he comes home. It all made sense on paper. And Louis now actually made enough money to pay for most of the things they visibly owned. This was the best cover by far that she'd ever had,

  I really enjoy this life. The thought startled her. She wasn't used to thinking of her life as something to be enjoyed. Not that she hadn't liked parts of her prior life: her exotic garden, building stuff, managing a secret financial empire – and, of course, Socrates. But until now, she never would've classified herself as especially happy or content. It was different having someone you loved in your life. She even liked being a pretend hausfrau. The irony appealed to her.

  Her daily survey of her kingdom completed, Thalma took Socrates for a short run up a trail that skirted one edge of her property. He huffed along grudgingly as usual. At the end she gave him a doggy treat and dribbled some water in his mouth and sent him back on his own as per their new tradition.

  Onward and upward. She began to run for real, the trees on either side passing in a blur. A couple of afternoon hikers jumped a little as she blazed past. Not a great idea letting others see her run this fast, but she was sure they'd rationalize it away as Rocky Mountain high or something.

  Wanting a higher view, she launched herself straight up through the dense brush and rocks to a peak eight hundred feet above the trail. From there, Emerald Bay lay below like the glittering blue-green jewel it was.

  A siren carried up faintly from the highway. At first she thought it was an ambulance, but no, it was a pair of Tahoe Ford Interceptors racing up Emerald Bay, lights flashing. She took in a deep breath – expelling it when she saw them race past where they would've needed to turn for her driveway. Not that she wasn't prepared. She had an escape route and new identity planned for her and Louis. A bit more complicated now with two people, but doable. They had bug-out bags already packed. An armored SUV parked in the nearby woods in the garage of another house that one of her dummy corporations owned. New I.D.s, credit cards, cash, and even a disguise kit. Plenty of firepower. Another escape vehicle and a safe house waited within fifty miles. They had a code message that told the other to get the hell out of Dodge. Rendezvous points were set up in case they couldn't leave together or got separated.

  The price you had to pay when you were a most-wanted felon, a cop and federal agent-killer. Her and Louis's face had been plastered over a thousand newspapers and news shows for the next week after shootout at her South Dakota farmhouse.

  That wasn't something she ever wanted to repeat – not the kind of life she wanted to lead anymore. This place, at last, felt like a true home. If they'd just leave her alone, if she could just stay under the radar, she could see staying here forever.

  A cool breeze rose up from the lake and skittered over Thalma's forearms. Her muscles twitched in a small shudder. She was about to shake off the frisson, but stopped herself. Thalma had learned not to disregard her feelings. In her position, she doubted it was even possible to be too paranoid.

  She jogged back down the mountain much more slowly and cautiously – one ear cocked – than she had on the way up.

  LOUIS WALKED through the front door with a haunted look in his eyes. Thalma paused in throwing together a beef casserole.

  "What?" she asked. "Was your potential customer pissed when you were a few minutes late?"

  "Twenty minutes late. But no, Joe covered my ass and the dude hired us. That's not it."

  "What is it?"

  Louis headed toward the living room couch and grabbed the remote on the end table. The big screen television snapped to life. A pretty blonde was pointing at a weather green screen, predicting pleasant days ahead.

  "Wow," said Thalma. "Another sunny day in Tahoe. I can see why you're upset."

  "Wait for it. They'll get to the news in a few minutes. It was on the radio just as I was cleaning up to leave." r />
  The TV scene, on cue, cut to the newsroom and an earnest young newscaster couple.

  "Lake Tahoe police are still on the lookout for the driver involved in a robbery at Western States bank earlier today," said the man. "Three men were arrested in a south Tahoe neighborhood this morning under unusual circumstances. Jane Mueller has that story for us."

  A young brunette reporter in a blue blazer was standing with a dazed-looking blond woman.

  "I'm speaking to Sandy Brewster, the woman who was taken hostage by three bank robbers earlier today. Sandy, could you tell us what happened?"

  "I was loading some bags from Kmart and these guys in ski masks came running out of the bank," she said. "They shoved me in my car and we drove to this house outside town. We'd just gotten out when this lady drove into the driveway next to us and pretended to know me..."

  "And then what happened?"

  "And then...she just beat the crap – sorry, just, um, knocked them down, like with karate kicks and stuff. It was awesome – like she stepped out of a Bruce Lee movie or something."

  "Could you describe this mystery lady?"

  "Really pretty, like a model, you know? Tall." She frowned a little, narrowing her eyes as if conducting an inner debate. Then she faced the camera directly. "I just wanted to say, whoever you are, thank you so much for what you did."

  "Well, there's that," said Louis.

  Thalma managed a dry smile despite the tightness in her chest. "And she thought I was pretty."

  On the screen, the reporter asked for more description.

  "I don't really remember any details," Sally said, with another glance at the camera. "It all happened so fast, you know?"

  As the show turned to showing mug shots of the bank robbers and describing their backgrounds, Thalma returned to assembling her casserole. The news story ended by stating that all three robbers had been hospitalized – one in intensive care.

  Louis flicked off the TV.

  "That could've been worse," he said, coming up behind her. "I kind of got the feeling she figured out you might not want to be found. That's why she cut short the description."