Taken

CHAPTER ONE-2

Jennifer Monroe was looking in the side mirror and monitoring the TV screen which had a camera facing the rear of the vehicle. She could move a joy stick and move the cameras to different angles. She saw no one.

Beverly saw Sandra Clark tap on the beauty salon door. A few seconds later Sandra pushed on the door to enter. Agents Wilcox and Simpson followed Clark into the salon.

Jennifer knew the apartment in the back was only four rooms. Eight hundred square feet. She had been in the advance team a few times. There were no hiding places. The biggest concern was the back door of the apartment, which was in the alley. One agent would stay by the back door, which was locked.

Three minutes later Jennifer got the all clear. She put the shotgun in its rack and locked it into place. She got out of the vehicle and opened the door for Beverly. Beverly got out and said, “Thank you.” Roger Ford, the driver, got out leaving the engine running in case a quick evacuation became necessary. Jeff Webb got out of the trail vehicle.

The four of them used the steps to get to the sidewalk. Then the three agents and Beverly started walking briskly towards Courtney’s.

Roger Ford was between the sidewalk and Beverly. The locals had nicknamed him ‘Sidekick’. Jeff Webb was behind the other agents and Beverly. His nickname was ‘Linebacker’. Jennifer Monroe was in front and was nicknamed ‘Birddog’.

The three advance team members were nicknamed ‘Larry,’ ‘Curly’ and ‘Moe’ like the three stooges.

Sixty feet from Courtney’s a man stepped out of the Thrift Shop next door. He had a cell phone to his ear in his left hand. In his right hand was a metal cane. The cane had four small legs at the bottom. The cane could stand upright on its own. The man never glanced towards the four people. He walked away from the group towards Casper Street.

Jennifer Monroe slowed the pace. She put her hand in her ‘purse’, which actually was not a purse. She had nothing personal in the ‘purse’ but it did contain a Forty Caliber automatic, fully loaded with six extra magazines, a spare cell phone and a satellite phone. She put her hand around the pistols grip. She was also wearing a shoulder holster with her service weapon. No one notices a woman with her hand in her purse. Secret Service Agents aren’t trained like other cops. A cop can approach a crowd and pick out a handful of potential threats. To the Secret Service everyone is a threat. To Jennifer Monroe this man was a threat. She slowed even more.

The man approached the curb of Casper Street. A white pickup truck came to a stop at the stop sign then turned right, away from the agents. Another threat. After the pickup was fifty yards away Jennifer focused on the man on the curb, the nearest threat.

Jennifer was now at the door of the thrift shop. She noticed the sign in the window.

HOURS

THURSDAY AND FRIDAY

9:00-5:00

SATURDAY

9:00-1:00

Jennifer tried the door knob, locked. She looked through the window. The lights were on, but she saw no one. She slowed down.

The man was still at the curb fifty feet away. She didn’t hear the man say, “Now.” The pickup truck was one hundred yards away now. She saw movement from the passenger side of the truck. She saw a flash. The bullet hit her in the forehead. Jennifer Monroe was clinically dead before the bullet exited the back of her skull. Her knees buckled and she fell forward. Beverly thought she had stumbled and tried to catch her. She couldn’t get there in time. Then Beverly heard the shot.

Roger Ford, the ‘Sidekick’, was looking over his shoulder. A bullet hit him in his left temple. He fell into Beverly knocking her to the sidewalk.

Jeff Webb, the ‘Linebacker’ was struck in back of the head. He pitched forward. All three were dead before they hit the sidewalk.

Beverly screamed. The man at the curb turned and ran towards Beverly. Beverly screamed “Help me.” The man didn’t slow down when he passed Courtney’s door. He shoved the metal cane between the glass and the push bar. The small legs at the bottom was to the left of the door jamb preventing the door from opening.

Beverly screamed, “Help me.” The man was at her side now. He shoved a stun g*n at her and fifty thousand volts went through her body. Beverly went limp. She never heard a van pull up, the side door already open. The man picked her up, went five feet and threw her into the back of the van.

Secret Service Agent Tommy Wilcox was in the reception area of the beauty salon. He saw the man with the cane limp by talking on a cell phone. He noticed the man was wearing a green jacket and jeans, a black cowboy hat on his head. He had a full beard. He saw him stop at the curb for a few seconds. Then he heard the gunshots. He turned to Agent Clark and yelled, “Gunshots.” He turned back in time to see the man shove the cane in between the glass and the push bar of the door.

Secret Service Agent Sandra Clark was in the second room where the customer got their hair cut or colored. She headed for the door. She tried to open it. Then she saw the metal cane. She yelled, “Simpson.” Secret Service Agent Pat Simpson was at the back door of the apartment. He ran towards the front. He saw, along with Wilcox and Clark, a white van speed by and turn right on Casper street heading north.

Wilcox picked up a chair and tried to throw it through the window. It bounced off leaving only a long c***k. Simpson pulled his service weapon and yelled, “Stand back.” He emptied his clip in a large oval.

Courtney screamed, “My baby.” The baby started screaming. Wilcox picked up another chair and threw it at the window. This time it went through. Courtney screamed again. The baby was screaming. Clark yelled at Courtney to get in the back. Courtney didn’t hesitate. She ran to the back and grabbed the screaming baby then locked herself in the bathroom.

Wilcox and Simpson each picked up another chair and broke more of the window out. All three went through the window. Clark ran to the curb of Casper Street. She didn’t see a van. From the time of the gunshots until they were outside one minute had elapsed.

Wilcox and Simpson ran to the three agents. It only took seconds to determine that all three were dead. Simpson yelled to Clark, “Call it in.”

Both men got into their vehicles and tried to give chase but the van was not to be seen. Clark punched in a number on her speed dial. She had never in her fifteen-year career had to call this number.

“This is Agent Sandra Clark. I am declaring a Prairie Fire Emergency. Three agents down. ‘Mustang’ has been taken, I repeat, I am declaring a Prairie Fire Emergency. Three agents down. ‘Mustang’ has been taken.”

Clark knew she was speaking to the Secret Service Headquarters in Independence, Missouri. She knew every agent would be receiving the voice mail within minutes, followed by a text message. What Clark had called in was a coded message. ‘Prairie’ meant the MacDonald’s, ‘fire’ meant gunfire, ‘Emergency’ meant all agents needed to be notified. ‘Three agents down’ simply meant the number of agents that were casualties. ‘Mustang’ was the code name for Beverly.

Secret Service Agent Sandra Clark knew not to go near the bodies. It was now a crime scene.

“Oh God, what are we going to do?”

Beverly woke up. She tried to scream but couldn’t. A strip of duct tape had been placed over her mouth. She couldn’t see. A pillow case was over her head. Someone jerked her boots off. Then her clothes were being yanked off. She tried to fight them but there were too many and they were too strong. She felt something being placed around her ankles and wrists. She could tell the vehicle made a left and then another left. Then she could tell they turned onto a gravel surface, then they stopped and backed up. Beverly didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious. She heard a car door being opened and shut, then another and another. She heard a sound she recognized as a side door of a van. At least four people picked her up and carried her a few feet and then Beverly smelled something and knew where she was. It was the smell of rotting vegetables. The stench was overwhelming. She was afraid she was going to throw up. With the duct tape over her mouth she could drown in her own vomit. She tried not to inhale. She knew she was next to one of the dumpsters at a grocery store, but which grocery store?

Beverly was tossed like a sack of potatoes into the trunk of a car. Someone got in with her. She heard the trunk slam shut. The person in the trunk with her said, “You move and I will kill you. You understand?”

Beverly nodded her head.

Secret Service Agent Tommy Wilcox was pushing the envelope. He was driving as fast as he dared in town. Once he was outside the city he opened the SUV up. He didn’t look at the speedometer. He was looking for a white van. If the van was on Casper highway he would catch it in a matter of minutes.

Secret Service Agents are some of the best drivers in the world. They have been put through hours and hours of training. They can make cars do things the manufacturer would never dream their cars could do. Ten miles out of town he knew the van was not on Casper highway. He took a right and headed east before taking another right. Five miles later he was on Laramie highway. He was heading back to Kerney. If the van wasn’t driving at a high rate of speed he might be in front of them. He saw a white van approaching. Wilcox turned his SUV to the left, hit the brakes, skidding sideways down the highway. He came to a stop, jumped out with his weapon drawn and yelled, “Out of the car now! I want to see your hands. Get out now!”

Two teenage girls got out, arms in the air. One of the girls was jumping up and down like she had to pee. Wilcox approached the girls and looked in the van. The van was empty.

“You can go now.”

“I got to pee,” said the girl, who was still jumping up and down.

“Well, go pee,” said Wilcox as he pointed to the woods beside the road.

The girl ran. Wilcox ran, also. He moved his SUV out of the vans path and waited on the girl to finish and get back in the van. When the van was past he called Simpson.

Secret Service Agent Pat Simpson was using a different method. He wasn’t driving very fast. He was using a grid method driving east and west going down each street in the north part of town. Very few houses had attached garages, mostly carports. He was only going ten miles per hour. He only saw one van and it had ladders on a rack on top of the van, a painter.

Simpson headed back to the crime scene. As he approached Main Street he saw a white van and a white truck behind the grocery store next to the dumpster. His phone rang.

Beverly kept telling herself to stay calm. She didn’t know what kind of car she was in. She knew it had a big trunk. It wasn’t crowded even with the other person in there with her. When the car made a turn, she could tell which way they turned because of the way her body would shift in the opposite direction. Her eyes were closed. She was concentrating on trying to figure out where she was. They crossed the railroad tracks. She knew where she was. The other grocery store was not near any railroad tracks.