by Orion Gaudio
Most of the tables had two people sitting at them. The only single person in the coffee shop was a guy two tables away, typing on his laptop, but he didn’t have a drink in front of him. Turner waited and watched him.
“Lance!”
The guy stood up from his table and walked toward the counter to fetch his coffee. Turner saw his opportunity. He stood up and grabbed the laptop as he walked by the table and toward the back of the shop. The bathroom was only a few steps away when the guy finally turned around and realized his laptop was missing.
“Hey!”
Turner ducked into the bathroom and locked the door. He sat down on the floor and leaned against the door as he opened the web browser and quickly downloaded his preferred VPN.
“Hey, asshole, open the door.”
“Just a second,” Turner said.
“You stole my laptop!”
“I’m going to give it back.”
The man threw his shoulder against the door, but it didn’t budge. Turner figured he had a couple of minutes, at most, before the employees of the coffee shop either got the door open or called the police. He made his way to the dark web and sent a message out to NIA.
Merlin
Need assistance. Please advise. In SF near UCSF Medical Center.
A response popped up on the screen a few seconds later.
Gyr
Proceed to parking garage 1.5 miles west.
That was all Turner needed to see. He closed the browser window before the message disappeared, and stood up.
“Open the door!”
He closed the laptop and unlocked the door. Turner pulled it open and shoved the laptop into the hands of the owner. The guy looked a little shocked.
“Thanks,” Turner said.
“We already called the cops, bro.”
He didn’t doubt it. It was a mile and a half to the parking garage, a distance he could cover in less than ten minutes under normal conditions. With a fresh gunshot wound and shoes that didn’t fit him, it would be a different story. He knew his only chance would be for the cops to be a little slow in their response, or they’d be able to catch him before he got there. Turner wasn’t going to let that happen. He walked out of the coffee shop and started jogging.
The streets were busy with people going about their day, but no police in sight and Turner didn’t hear any sirens. Taking a laptop and locking himself in a bathroom didn’t exactly constitute a high-priority crime, so he guessed he’d have plenty of time.
By his best guess, Turner was about halfway to the parking garage when the pain in his chest started to intensify. Without stopping, he looked down to take a peek at his bandage. A few spots of blood had seeped through the gauze. He kept going. There was nothing he could do about it at that moment. With any luck, the stitches would still be intact by the time he got there.
He slowed and looked around as he reached the parking garage. The sound of screeching tires reached him. Turner glanced over his shoulder just as the blue and red lights on top of the police cruiser lit up.
“Freeze!”
The voice came through the loud speakers on the car.
He ran into the parking garage. They had responded to the call much more quickly than he anticipated and they’d be on him in seconds.
The engine of the black Dodge Charger directly ahead of Turner roared to life. The driver rolled down his window.
“Turner, get in.”
Agent Holloway.
Turner ran around to the passenger side of the car and jumped in. Holloway gunned the engine and lit up the tires as he pulled out of the parking spot. The police car was stopped at the entrance to the garage. Turner looked over at their shocked faces as the Dodge smashed through the red and white gate. The wood barrier shattered into thousands of pieces and cracked the windshield of the car in the process.
Holloway turned right and slid the car out into the street. Another car slammed on their brakes and swerved out of the way of the rapidly accelerating Dodge. Turner put on his seatbelt and wrapped his fingers around the grab handle.
“You’re bleeding,” Holloway said.
Turner looked down. There was a growing spot of red on his shirt.
“Yeah.”
“What the hell happened?”
“The agent they set me up with to support my mission… he shot me.”
Turner looked up just in time to see them blow through a red light. Holloway cranked the wheel to the left and slid through the intersection. He got the car back under control and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. The supercharger on the engine whined as they picked up speed. Turner glanced in his mirror. Flashing red and blue lights came into view as the police car made the turn behind them.
“They’re still behind us.”
“I’m working on it,” Holloway said.
He made a quick right followed by a quick left. Turner knew the longer the chase went on, the higher chance there would be they’d be caught.
“There’s a change of clothes in the back seat.”
Turner reached in the back and grabbed the duffel bag. He winced as pain shot through his chest. Inside the bag was a black T-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a hat. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got changed as quickly as he could manage while flying down the streets of San Francisco at eighty miles per hour.
“You got a plan?” Turner asked, as he finished changing and put his seatbelt back on.
He stuffed the scrubs and shoes into the duffel bag and tossed it into the backseat.
“I did… and it would have been fine if you stayed put in the hospital for another twenty minutes.”
“Sorry.”
Holloway turned down an alley and picked up speed. Turner glanced in his mirror again just as the cops turned behind them.
“They’re still behind us,” he said.
“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.”
Holloway mashed his hand down on the horn. A guy at the end of the alley looked up from his phone and froze. Holloway honked again. The man jumped out of the way just in time. Turner looked out his window and saw a compact car coming right at him. He closed his eyes and braced for impact. They were thrown sideways as the small car smashed into the rear quarter panel of the Dodge. He opened his eyes and saw they were facing oncoming traffic. Holloway turned the wheel and hit the gas. The car protested, but started to move forward. An awful screeching was coming from the wheel behind Turner.
“We gotta get rid of this car,” Holloway said.
He turned down the next street and brought the car to a stop.
“Get out.”
Turner obeyed the command and hopped out. Holloway pulled away as quickly as the damaged car would allow. Turner could see the rear quarter of the car was smashed in, the suspension was destroyed, and the tire was barely contacting the road.
Sirens. They were getting closer. Turner walked up to the door of a clothing store and ducked inside. He looked over his shoulder and watched as the police car sped by. He waited a few seconds and then went back out onto the sidewalk.
He wasn’t sure what to do. Holloway had led the police away from him, but he was still in the same predicament he’d been in ten minutes earlier—no phone, no money, no way of getting out of the city on his own.
More sirens. Turner pulled the hat down and turned his back to the street as two more cop cars sped by and made a left at the next light.
He was a little worried about Holloway, but knew the man could take care of himself. Howard had brought him into the fold at NIA three years earlier and he’d quickly climbed the ranks and become one of their most dependable field agents.
Turner looked up and down the sidewalk in hopes of catching a glimpse of Holloway. He finally spotted him walking briskly on the other side of the street. Turner waited for a break in the traffic and crossed the road. He fell into step next to Holloway, and they turned right at the next intersection.
“I’m glad you made it,” Turner said.
“It was c
lose, but I ditched the car and hopped a fence. They were far enough behind me that they didn’t see where I went.”
“Good.”
“We need to get off the street.”
Turner nodded in agreement.
They walked for a few more minutes until they came across a metro station. They headed down the stairs and Holloway paid for two tickets.
“Where are we going?” Turner asked.
“I’ve got a room near Union Square.”
They stepped onto the train and rode it for two stops before getting off and heading up the stairs. Turner was satisfied that they’d eluded the police, but he still anxious to get off the street. Taking a police officer hostage was no small charge and it was likely they had put out an APB on him and Holloway. They needed to talk about their next move and the only suitable place for that would be a hotel room where they’d have privacy to speak freely.
“Fifth floor,” Holloway said.
Turner dropped back and waited five minutes before heading into the hotel lobby. He got onto the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The police would be looking for two men together, so it would be best if they put some distance between themselves when in public.
He stepped off as the doors opened. Holloway was waiting for him at the end of the hall. They went into the room. Turner closed the door behind them and slid the chain lock into place.
“So, what the hell happened?” Holloway asked.
He bent down and pulled a beer out of the mini fridge. Turner sat down on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath.
“I don’t know how much you know, but we got to the port in Oakland. I was supposed to retrieve a flash drive from this Chinese national. The problem was the guy who I was set up with for assistance. His name is Rollins. He’s CIA, at least that’s what I was told. He was there in a very unofficial capacity, so he said. Anyway… I managed to retrieve the flash drive from the Chinese national once he boarded a cargo ship. I went into the drink and Rollins fished me out. Then he demanded I give him the flash drive. I eventually did as I wasn’t armed. He shot me and I fell into the bay. He must have assumed I was dead because I woke up in the hospital an hour before we met up.”
Holloway shook his head and sipped his beer.
“You ever worked with this guy before?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you why he wanted the flash drive or who he was working for?”
“Nope.”
“Right.”
Holloway sat down at the desk and opened his laptop.
“I’ll get in touch with headquarters and see what they want to do.”
“We need to get out of the city.”
Holloway grunted in response as he logged into his laptop and opened his VPN. Turner stood up from the bed and walked over to the desk. He watched as Holloway sent a message to NIA.
Fox
Recovered Merlin. Evaded pursuit. Please advise.
Both men watched the screen as they waited for the response. Their message faded from the screen a minute later and before there was an answer. Holloway shook his head and wrote another message.
Fox
Merlin safe. Injured, GSW to chest. Please advise.
A response flashed onto the screen.
Gyr
Status of package?
Holloway turned his head and looked at Turner.
“You can tell them.”
Fox
Package taken by assisting party by force.
Gyr
Return for further instructions.
Turner let out a sigh of relief. He had a feeling Howard would want him to go after Rollins and the flash drive, but he his body and mind were wrecked.
Holloway closed the laptop and put it into a backpack.
“We should get moving. I’ve got a car valeted.”
“Sure,” Turner said. “I just need a minute.”
He walked into the bathroom and closed the door. He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Running from the police had taken a toll on him and he could feel his bandage was soaked with blood. He lifted his T-shirt and inspected the damage. The blood-soaked bandage was useless, so he ripped it off and set it on the counter. Turner leaned over the counter and inspected his wound in the mirror. Most of the stitches were still in place. He sighed and took a wad of toilet paper and wiped up the excess blood on his chest. Turner tossed the paper into the toilet and flushed it before stuffing the bandage into his pocket and walking out of the bathroom. He didn’t want to leave any trace that he’d been in the hotel room.
Holloway was standing by the door with his backpack on and suitcase in hand.
“Ready?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“I’ll go check out. Wait ten minutes and meet me on the street.”
Turner nodded. Holloway left the room and headed for the elevator. He walked over to the window and looked out at Union Square. The drive back to Pennsylvania was sure to be a long one and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He was a little surprised that Howard hadn’t instructed them to pursue Rollins, it would have made the most sense… but he was relieved they were instructed to return to headquarters. It would be a while before he recovered from the gunshot. Still, Turner couldn’t help thinking about the flash drive that he’d lost to Rollins. He hadn’t failed a mission in years… and never in such a spectacular fashion.
He sighed and walked out of the hotel room. The staff didn’t give him a second look as he walked out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk. Holloway pulled up in front of the hotel in a white Volkswagen. Turner opened the passenger door and climbed in.
“A little less conspicuous than the last car.”
“Yeah,” Holloway said, as he pulled away from the curb. “Let’s just hope we don’t have to run in this thing because it’s not exactly made for it.”
Turner looked out the window and nodded. They’d be out of the city and heading east in the next few minutes and from there it would be a straight shot east to Altoona.
16
Howard slammed his fist down on his desk. He swept his arms across the surface of the desk and sent everything flying. His laptop hit the floor and the screen detached from the rest of the computer.
Jess opened the door and froze as she looked at the papers that were still fluttering to the floor.
“Sir… is everything OK?”
“What do you think?”
He opened the top drawer of his desk, pulled out a pack of nicotine gum, and popped two pieces into his mouth. He really wanted a cigarette, but he’d promised his wife he’d quit for real.
“Clean this up,” he said, gesturing at the mess he’d just made.
He stood up and sighed as he walked over to the window that looked down on the rest of his employees. They were all still at their stations, just working away… oblivious to what had just happened. None of them realized the gravity of the situation they were all tied up in.
“I’ll find you another computer, Sir.”
He waved his arm at her as she set the papers back down on his desk and hurried out of the room. The girl looked half-scared to death, but he didn’t notice.
Howard walked back to his desk and sat down. He’d put all his eggs in one basket and his best agent had failed him. It was a mission they hadn’t had enough time to prepare for in their usual manner, but he’d been forced to roll the dice against his will. Howard would be lucky if his head didn’t roll for it.
He drummed his fingers on his desk. Howard needed to inform The Council of the mission failure.as soon as possible They weren’t going to like it, that much he knew for sure.
Jess walked back into his office and set a new laptop down in front of him.
“Do you need anything else, Sir?”
He shook his head and waved her out of the room. Howard waited until she closed the door to open the laptop. He logged into the VPN and initiated a chat with The Council.
Gyr
Mission fai
led. Flash drive in possession of CIA agent used to assist in mission. Please advise next step.
A response popped up on the screen almost instantly, which made him think The Council already knew and had been waiting for him to reach out.
TC
Retrieve flash drive at all costs.
Gyr
Agent injured. Unable to continue mission.
He waited for a response. Nothing came by the time his message faded from the screen. Howard opened the bottom drawer of his desk, took out a bottle of whiskey, and took a long swing from it.
TC
Dispatch additional agents. Flash drive must be recovered at all costs. Report when recovered.
He shook his head and put the bottle of whiskey back. His best agent was injured, he had no idea how bad it was, and Holloway wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. His options were severely limited. Turner pressed the button on his intercom.
“Jess, can you come in here?”
“Yes, Mr. Castle.”
She walked into the room a few seconds later.
“I need you to get Smith and Rhys in here.”
“Anything else?”
“Call my wife and tell her not to wait up… it’s going to be a long night.”
She nodded and retreated from his office.
Smith and Rhys were serviceable agents, but he would have never asked them to go on a mission of this magnitude. His hand had been forced and he knew his continued stewardship of NIA would be hanging in balance. Failure wasn’t an option.
17
Turner opened his eyes and blinked a few times. The sun was coming up and shining right in his eyes. They’d been driving for nearly thirty hours, taking turns behind the wheel. He sat up and pulled his seat back up.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Almost there.”
Turner looked out the side window. They were near Indianapolis when they last traded driving duties.
“You good?”
Holloway stifled a yawn and nodded.
“Yeah. We should be there in twenty minutes… I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Turner touched his chest where the bullet wound was. He’d washed the area around his stitches when they stopped for gas the night before. It was still causing him some pain, but being stationary in the car had helped.