by Margaret Kay
Annaka’s gaze shot up from her phone and affixed on the man. She hadn’t seen him or heard him approach. There was something very familiar about him. His dark hair was worn buzz-cut short. He was clean shaven, but the shape of his nose and the shape of his deep-set eyes gave him away. He’d cut his hair short and shaved the beard and mustache off, but he still had that look of ruggedness to him. Realization came to her and with that realization, panic assaulted her. It was him. There was no disputing it. It was the second man who’d come into the research office on Christmas Eve.
She jumped to her feet and took a step back, to put some distance between herself and him. “Stay away from me,” her voice gasped. Her gaze darted around the empty hallway.
“Please, just hear me out,” he said quietly as he took a step closer.
“Help!” She screamed as loudly as she could, her face turned towards the hallway.
He rushed forward. He grabbed her. His left hand squeezed her upper arm in a vice grip, causing her to drop her phone. His right hand pressed hard over her mouth. “Shut up!”
She struggled against him, but he was strong. He easily forced her through the door that led outside. He dragged her around the corner to the back of the building. He pulled her beside a white utility van, pressing his body against hers to help immobilize her.
“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you.” He pulled the sliding door open.
Her wide eyes stared into his. Her mind raced with thoughts of how to get away. She knew if she allowed herself to be forced into the van that she was as good as dead. She grabbed onto the door handle and held on with every ounce of strength she had. He tried to pry her hand from it, but she held tight. He pulled a gun from beneath his coat and stuck it into her face.
“Don’t make a sound or I will shoot you,” he warned in a low, breathy voice. He let go of her mouth and pointed towards the open door. “Get in the van.”
Annaka summoned all the courage she could and forced words through her vocal cords. “No, you’re going to kill me, anyway. Just do it here.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. Just get in the God-damned van.” He took a half a step back and motioned to the inside of the van again.
She took the opportunity. She nodded, as though she was going to comply. As fast as she could, she stepped into him. She drove her knee as hard as she could into his crotch.
He wailed out in pain. Instead of releasing her, his grip tightened. He pressed the muzzle of the gun into her stomach. “Get in the fucking van.”
She forced her legs to move and she climbed in. Her heart pounded in her chest. He was right behind her. He closed the sliding panel door.
“Get in the driver’s seat. You’re driving.”
She obeyed and slid into the driver’s seat. He kept the gun pressed into her side as he dropped himself into the passenger seat beside her.
“Drive,” he ordered.
She shifted to drive and pulled out of the parking space. She struggled to breathe as she drove the van out of the parking lot and onto the street. She followed his directions, planning and waiting. He hadn’t put his seat belt on. Neither had she. She had the steering wheel she could grab onto and she knew what she was planning to do. He didn’t. She would have the element of surprise.
“Why me? That’s all I want to know.” Her voice was soft, all the volume she could muster.
He huffed out a breath. “You fit into the plan. That’s all.”
“What plan?” She demanded.
“Pat liked you. That’s the only reason you,” he paused midsentence. “He wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, yet you were the one who got him killed.”
“I didn’t get him or anyone else killed. He fired on federal authorities. He held me locked in that cabin.” Her voice was stronger. That’s what outrage would do. How dare he say she got Patrick Keeling killed? “What are you going to do to me?”
“I only wanted to talk to you. You’re the one who freaked out.”
As misfortune would have it, every stoplight was green. As she drove further away from the hotel, the number of buildings quickly thinned. She didn’t want to get anyone hurt, so she hadn’t stomped on the brakes yet with hopes of propelling this guy through the windshield. She didn’t want him to shake off the crash and start shooting at her as she tried to get away and hit any bystanders. But she decided if she didn’t act now, she may not have another chance.
She came over a small hill and there on the right was a strip mall with at least a dozen cars in front of it. Annaka slammed the breaks on, throwing the man into the windshield. He hit it hard with a thud, but the window didn’t break. Leaving the van in drive, she threw her door open and bolted from the vehicle. She heard a crash of metal hitting something. She’d misjudged though and the strip mall was a good fifty yards behind her.
She heard the man yell her name and the unmistakable sound of the car door closing. She glanced behind her and saw that he had just exited the driver’s side. The van’s nose was impaled in a tree off the road. She was in the open. His gun was in his hand. A tree line was on the side of the road three feet away. She saw buildings through the pines. She made the decision and ran into the trees.
Zulu
In Seattle, Mother snapped off pictures to document the license plates and cars as well as the faces of those who parked in front of the smoke shop that they were still surveilling from the outside. They had not managed to get a camera inside the building as it was never vacant. The owners, Jim Ramos and Dawn Spinks, both in their late twenties with no records, lived in the building against code. His phone, on the table beside him, rang. He took his eyes off the parking lot and scanned the display. It was Garcia. “Hey, what’s up?” He answered.
“I’m in Ops. I got an alert that Annaka’s tracker was moving away from her phone. I have her phone stationary at the hotel, but she’s moving away to the north at fifty-five miles per hour.”
“No, she should be at the hotel eating breakfast. I just talked to her twenty minutes ago.”
“Are you sure she was going to stay at the hotel? Maybe she accidently left the phone in her room and got picked up by a friend to go to breakfast,” Garcia suggested.
“No, she was in the hall just outside the hotel restaurant when we talked. She planned to eat there, then check out of the hotel before heading to the hearing. Something’s wrong.”
Mother’s statement got the attention of Cooper and Lambchop, who were in the room with him. “What’s wrong?” Cooper asked.
“Annaka’s in trouble.” He filled them in on what Garcia had told him. Then he turned his attention back to Garcia. He put his phone on speaker. “Garcia, can you contact the local LEOs and get them dispatched to where her tracker is?”
“Affirmative,” Garcia replied. “I’ll also get someone over to the hotel.”
Mother waited, staring at his phone in his hand. The minutes ticked away.
“Wait. What the hell? Her tracker signal is gone,” Garcia said.
“What do you mean the signal is gone?”
“You know it happens occasionally. Metal and concrete can mask it. Yvette, tap into the satellite of the target area. Let’s see what kind of buildings are in the vicinity. Mother, we’re looking at it now,” Garcia said.
“This cannot be happening. This cannot fucking be happening,” Mother swore.
Cooper was on the phone with Shepherd. He was pacing near the door. “I will,” he said. Then he stepped up next to Mother. “Shepherd will contact the pilots. Our plane is still on the ground at SeaTac. They’ll fly you into Anchorage,” Cooper said. “Lambchop, go with him. I’ll hold things together here.”
“Thank you, Coop,” Mother breathed. He grabbed his backpack and headed to the back door.
Lambchop followed. He pulled a set of car keys from his pocket. After he’d pulled out of the alley, he finally spoke. “Have faith that she’s okay. We’ll be on the ground in three hours.”
The prickly pines clawed at Annaka as she ran thro
ugh the trees as fast as she could over the uneven ground. The buildings ahead were farther away than she’d thought. The cold, damp air whistled around her. A chill invaded her. She heard crunching behind her. It was the man who pursued her. His feet cracked branches and plunged through the snow more loudly than her own steps. When she broke free of the tightly clumped trees and bushes, she ran flat out towards the nearest building. No cars were parked in front. She ran behind it, hoping to see cars. None were there. She tried every door she came to, finally finding one unlocked. He hadn’t rounded the corner yet.
She threw the door open and rushed in unseen. The lock needed a key. She couldn’t lock it. She held it closed, held the handle so it wouldn’t turn, hoping he’d assume it was locked. It worked, and she heard him repeatedly bang the wall in time with her pounding heart as he continued to move along the outside of the building.
She ran into the expanse of the building, trying to make out in the dim lighting what it was. There was a maze of crates and half walls, walls, walls with window cutouts, and barrels. They were scattered everywhere. She knew there had to be an office with a phone. The unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut reverberated through the cavernous space, sending a chill of terror through her. He’d found a way in.
It was the longest three hours of Mother’s life. He was thankful that Lambchop was with him on the flight. Lambchop’s calm exterior and his faith that they would find Annaka well and unhurt helped to keep him composed and focused. He was also thankful that Shepherd had sanctioned the two of them leaving the mission in Seattle as quickly as he did.
Two members of the Anchorage FBI met them on the tarmac as they deplaned. The introductions were fast. The car sped away. The location of her tracker before it disappeared was their destination. “Anchorage PD found her purse and phone in a hallway at the hotel,” Agent Wheeler reported, turning and facing the back seat as he spoke. “Your man, Garcia, gave us a location we are heading towards. Two more agents are already there searching with the local LEOs. How you got the location I don’t think I even want to know,” he said, his lips tipping into a half-grin. His dark brown eyes, as dark as his skin color, bounced between Mother and Lambchop with questions.
Mother and Lambchop did not respond.
Twenty minutes later, the car pulled into the small industrial area at the end of a dead-end street. The gravel road came to a T. Four large metal buildings were on the left, four more were on the road that ran to the right. Both Mother and Lambchop put their comms in their ears. Garcia and Yvette at Ops were online.
There was one vehicle in sight, parked halfway between two of the warehouses to the left. The area was quiet and desolate. The car pulled up beside the abandoned white panel van. “It’s the middle of the damned day. Why is this place so quiet?” Mother asked the FBI Agents as they slid out of the car.
“Most of these warehouses are businesses that are only open on weekends or evenings.” Wheeler pointed to one of the buildings closest to them. “That’s an underground nightclub, believe it or not.”
“A popup for Raves is more like it,” the other agent added as he opened the door to the panel van. “This vehicle was checked by our other agents. They found nothing but take a look if you’d like.”
Both Mother and Lambchop poked their heads in. Nothing noticeable. If they didn’t find Annaka, they’d have crime scene investigators look for trace evidence to prove or rule out that she’d been in this van.
“And that’s an indoor paintball arena,” Wheeler continued pointing to the other building. Then he pointed to the building across the narrow gravel road. “That’s a roller rink, think roller derby and yes, it’s making a comeback.” He pointed at the building beside the roller rink. “Two of our other agents are in there. It’s an MMF fighting arena and gym, two guys beating the hell out of each other with bare hands. There are four cars parked around back and the front door was unlocked. They’re cooperating, letting our men search the place.”
“So, that gives us three other places to check out on this end of the industrial park,” Mother said, drawing his sidearm. “We’ll take the paintball place first.”
“Give me your number and I’ll call so you can log mine,” Lambchop said to the FBI Agents, his phone in his hand.
“We’ll take the roller rink. I’ll call you when we have it cleared,” the agent said. He rattled off his phone number, and then it rang. Both men were satisfied they could reach each other if need be. The four of them rushed to their designated buildings to check them out.
Mother headed around to the back of the building. Lambchop began checking doors and looking in the windows on the front of it. They would gain entry by any means necessary if nothing was unlocked. Both of the men were proficient with lock picking tools and the locks on this building didn’t look too difficult. He also examined the building material. It was corrugated sheet metal, thick steel, with what appeared to be a ceramic coating. That could explain the blocking of her tracker signal if she was inside.
“I’ve got an unlocked door,” Mother broadcast. “Southwest corner of the building. Entering now.” He pulled the door open, quietly closing it behind himself. He crept forward. He strained his ears to hear any sound. Nothing. He moved ten feet in.
“Mother, we just lost your tracker signal,” Yvette’s voice came through his comms.
“This building is extra thick steel with a ceramic coating,” Lambchop said. “I’m heading to your twenty now, Mother.”
Annaka heard the faint sound of what she thought was a door closing, but she couldn’t be sure. Had he given up and left? She wasn’t sure how long she’d hid inside this crate. It felt like hours. It had to be. Her stomach growled with hunger, reminding her all she’d had that morning was coffee in her room. Her bladder ached. She had to pee. She pressed her back a bit more firmly against the wood.
She’d heard footsteps and saw a shadow move across the wall, which was why she hid in this crate. Right before, she’d seen a door with a window on the far wall. It led to a small empty room, but beyond was a plate-glass window, a classroom or meeting room and bathrooms visible. Certainly, the bathroom door would have a lock on it. If she could make it across the room and if that door were unlocked, she might have a chance. Maybe there was even a phone some place through that door. She hadn’t heard anything at all in a long time.
She made the decision and crept out from inside the crate, her heart pounding so loud she figured anyone in the building would hear it. Her legs were stiff and sore. She squinted through the shadows in all directions, looking for any movement, her ears straining to hear the faintest sound. Nothing.
She stayed low and kept to the shadows as she made her way towards the far wall, towards the door. She pressed herself flat against one of the free-standing walls. Her destination was twenty feet away. Through the open window-like cutout in one of the walls, she saw movement near the door with the window causing her heart to skip a beat. Her breath caught in her chest. It burned.
She calmed her breathing and her thoughts. Okay, if he was there, she would make her way back towards the door she’d come in. She’d cut back through the tree line and go to that strip mall she’d passed. It took her a few seconds to summon the courage to move. She slunk back the way she’d come, keeping her body pressed to walls, crouching down to hide behind crates or barrels.
As she moved through the shadowy arena, she heard faint sounds, which seemed to come from all directions. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw movement. Quickly, she retreated around the edge of a partition wall. She peered around the corner. She could see the door to the outside, the red exit sign glowing in the darkness. It was maybe twenty yards ahead.
She heard muffled footsteps on the concrete floor. She couldn’t tell from which direction, but they sounded too close. A wall partition was four feet in front of her. She’d be in the open for four feet. She took a step away from the wall, her eyes sweeping the area in front of her and around the corner. It looked clear.
Just as she was about to sprint to the wall, a hand grabbed her mouth, another her arm. She was drawn backward into something solid. “Shh, it’s me.” The hand over her mouth helped her to turn her head. She didn’t believe what her eyes saw. It was Danny. “Shh,” he repeated in a very soft whisper and then removed his hand from her mouth. He pointed two fingers at his eyes and then across the room where she saw the man who she’d been hiding from.
“That’s him,” she whispered.
“How many?”
“Just him. He has a gun.”
Through his comms he heard Lambchop identify that he was in striking distance. “One armed Tango,” Mother whispered.
Annaka gazed at Danny questioningly.
“Roger,” Lambchop’s soft voice replied.
Annaka watched as from nowhere, a second dark form flew in, disarmed the man, and pinned him to the floor in one smooth movement. Then Danny embraced her. She heard his heavy outpouring of breath as he held her tightly. “Thank God you’re okay.”