His frustration mounted as the truck who seemed to be in a rush when he jumped onto the berm was now moving at a snail’s pace. Marcellous smacked the steering wheel and for good measure, laid on the horn. He was losing precious seconds that he didn’t have and he needed for them to move – now. He saw a sliver of an opening and slammed on the accelerator. The twin engines of the Tesla whined back to life and he took off again in trailing position.
The three second delay from the Honda entering I-277 and that five second delay caused by the Ford entering I-77 resulted in Donatella being nearly a mile in front of him. From his vantage point, he could see her car entering the express lane trailing an SUV that too was gaining speed.
He made a straight line toward that lane sliding through the pedestrian-like speed of traffic continuing north. He noted the sound of automatic gun fire erupting in front of him as he entered onto the express lane. The red brake lights of Donatella‘s vehicle shone for a few moments before they went dark and she sped off again. Good, I’m gaining on them.
In the distance he heard the thwap-thwap of helicopter blades as he picked up speed. He could now see the SUV Donatella was pursuing exit the express lane shortly followed by the agent.
He glanced at the speedometer, realized he had crossed the century point and pressed harder. The only thought racing through his mind was catching up to these fiends and saving his wife. He had no clue how he was going to do that, but he damn sure knew Donatella would have a plan.
Suddenly, less than 100 yards in front of him he saw it. A dumpster truck which had been coasting down the express lane veered through the standing cones and broadsided the rear corner panel of the agent’s car. The impact immediately flipped her car in the air. The car smacked the concrete on its right side before flipping over, and over, and over again. Glass and metal flying everywhere as the car decelerated from its 100-plus speed to nothing.
Marcellous watched in horror as the scene played out in front of him. The car lay in a crumpled heap on the right side of the road. He quickly glanced up at his rearview mirror to see the beat-up clunker of Sampson approaching. At that point he decided to continue the pursuit and he would allow Sampson to stop for Donatella.
He pressed down on the accelerator once again, keeping his head on a swivel for any more surprises as he chased after the vehicle carrying his wife.
While he knew the vehicle was an SUV, he had not seen the vehicle up close. There weren’t too many vehicles on the road ahead of him and probably less SUVs. He continued to plow forward when the thwap-thwap of the helicopter that he heard earlier sounded as if it were right on top of him.
He saw a stream of light jutting from the sky and focusing in on a vehicle in front of him. To his surprise, and astonishment, the light was focused on an SUV. He figured this was the one he was meant to follow.
Once the SUV was illuminated, it picked up speed and yet again, Marcellous did the same. Again, he was further away than he liked but he threw caution to the wind and floored the accelerator. The speed, while dizzying, was necessary and he continued to press forward.
However, this was short lived. As he drew closer to the SUV, he saw a fleet of similar vehicles entering the highway and forming up with the one he was trailing. He could still make out the vehicle in question as the light was still shining brightly in its direction.
Marcellous continued to close the gap when the light on the vehicle disappeared. Shit, an overpass!
In a rehearsed motion, the surrounding vehicles all adjusted spots and to his chagrin, he didn’t know which vehicle was the right vehicle. The vehicles cleared the overpass and the light was shone on a vehicle but he wasn’t sure it was even the right one.
Each vehicle, now acting independently, set off at different speeds. Two took the next exit while three carried on forward.
“Shit!!” he yelled out loud smacking the steering wheel once again. He decided to stay on the highway trailing one of the vehicles no longer illuminated by the helicopter.
Sampson pushed old Betsy up the I-277-entrance ramp watching the speedometer slowly climb from 55 to 70 mph. He could feel himself losing contact with the more superior vehicles but he wasn’t going to stop his pursuit. An idea crossed his mind.
“Dispatch. This is Vanessa,” came the subdued voice from the other end.
“Vanessa, this is Carl.”
“Hey Carl, sugar. How –”
“Vanessa, I need a bird in the air immediately. I’m in hot pursuit of an abduction vehicle traveling west on I-277.”
He could sense the dispatcher sitting erect in her chair as she responded, “We have one a couple of miles away aiding in a drug bust.”
“Get them here pronto, old Betsy isn’t built for pursuit.”
“What type of vehicle is the assailant driving?”
“I’m not sure, the vehicle in question is being chased by an FBI agent in a black Audi.” He didn’t dare mention the fact that there was also a civilian chasing the black Audi. Surely the bird would spot that without his confirmation.
“10-4. I’ll let the bird know.”
The steering wheel began to shake violently in his hand as his speed reached the 90 mph mark. Approaching the Panthers stadium, he saw the brake lights of Marcellous as he aimed to exit onto I-77. He noticed a black Honda slip between Special Agent Donatella’s vehicle and the blue Tesla driven by Marcellous.
He immediately jumped back on with dispatch, “Vanessa, suspect has turned north on I-77. I repeat, north on 77.”
He yanked Betsy’s steering wheel to the right slowing slightly to enter the ramp for 77. The 19-year-old Chevy caprice was holding up under the strain but he didn’t know for how much longer. Traffic had slowed considerably on the ramp, so he was forced to take the berm to track the lead vehicles.
As he completed the entry onto 77 north he could spot Marcellous’ vehicle crossing the highway heading toward the express lane. He checked his sideview mirror looking for an opportunity to merge gracefully when he heard the report of a semi-automatic weapon fire cascading through the night’s air.
He pressed the pedal down to the floorboard and crossed through the flow of traffic at a reckless speed. Shots being fired on a busy highway didn’t bode well and this chase needed to come to an end.
He jumped back on the horn, “Vanessa, damn it, where is that bird? Shots fired; shots fired.”
“Bird incoming, ETA one minute.”
“Tell them to hurry the hell up. We need to bring this chase to an end.”
As the phrase left his lips, he realized he didn’t know how he was going to end this chase. Entering the express lane, he could see the faint signs of Marcellous’ vehicle in the distance. Betsy was holding steady at 90 mph and he was squeezing every bit of horsepower out of her that she could manage.
The time to cover the entrance of the express lane to the next exit passed in a flash. As he approached the exit he pondered why the traffic on the main portion of the highway had slowed. Looking to his right, he had his answer.
There were several large trucks blocking the flow of traffic. He didn’t have time to resolve this in his mind at the time, but later would realize this was part of the overall plan.
When he exited the express lane and hopped back on the main flow of I-77, he heard the unmistakable sound of a high impact collision ahead of him. Lord, now what? Twenty-five seconds later his question was answered. The beautiful black Audi R8 that he rode in just days prior had come to a rest, on its hood, on the right side of the highway. Glass and metal were strewn across the highway while smoke reached skyward from the wreckage.
“Officer down!” he yelled back at dispatch. “Send paramedics and fire.” He brought Betsy to a stop and jumped out of the car. Idly, he heard the helicopter fly by as he ran to the upside-down vehicle. Upon approach, he could see all the airbags had deployed inside the car. “Lord, let her be okay!” He reached for the driver side door handle and pulled. The door wouldn’t budge. He placed his foot on
the frame of the car for leverage and pulled as hard as he could – all of the muscles in his back and biceps bulging under the stress. Laying his head back and pulling with all of his might, the door finally opened. He pulled the knife from his pocket, flipped the blade open and deflated the air bags.
“Donatella!”, he yelled into the cabin, but received no response – at least no response from her.
“Who is that? Is Agent Dabria ok?” came a voice from the speakers.
Donatella, upside down from his viewpoint, had lost consciousness. He cradled her head while he released the latch to the seatbelt. Her lifeless body fell into his arms and he gingerly removed her from the vehicle. Unaware if the vehicle would explode at any moment, he continued to carry her away to what he felt was a safe distance.
Sampson dropped to his knees and lay Donatella on the ground. She was still breathing which was a good sign. He visually inspected her for any other impalements – he didn’t see any. Another good sign. She had a number of bruises covering her exquisite face, and though he was no doctor, it didn’t appear she had any facial fractures. Gazing at her, she looked as if she was sleeping peacefully.
Sampson reached into his pocket excavating for a vial of smelling salt. Finding what he was searching for, he opened the package and placed the object under her nose. “Come on, Donatella,” he said willing her to arouse. “Come on, I know you are in there!” After a few moments she was awake – groggy – but awake.
“Jasmyn,” she said with an intenseness in her voice. “Where is Jasmyn?” To this he had no answer. She stood unsteadily to her feet and he began to protest, “You’re in no condition to be standing. We need to have you checked out at the hospital.”
The cold glare from her hazelnut eyes abruptly put an end to any additional protest. She began walking back toward her car with Sampson walking aside her.
“I need to find out where she is, and we need to rescue her.”
Sampson realized she was heading toward her car – a bad idea he thought, but he realized the smoke he initially saw had stopped. Without hesitation she climbed back into the wreckage that was once her Audi. To Sampson it seemed like she was in there for 10 minutes, but in reality, it was roughly 20 seconds.
She emerged from the wreckage with her cellphone in hand.
“BJ,” she spoke urgently into the handset. “Where is she?”
“Agent Dabria! My God! Are you ok?”
“I’m fine BJ, where is she?” I see her tracker stopped roughly two miles from your location. It hasn’t moved for a while.”
Dabria could feel a tightening in her chest. “Detective, to your car. Fast.”
Sampson, still playing catch up to the entire situation, did as he was bid. He silently prayed as he turned the ignition for the car to start. Once again old Betsy came through.
“Continue heading north,” she said, still fearing the worst. She could sense the detective eyes shifting her way while he drove but she paid him no mind. Her focus was on Jasmyn and the baby. “Where is she BJ?”
“In another 30 feet you should be right on top of her.”
Donatella didn’t see any trucks and she didn’t see anyone standing by. Lord, let her be ok. She didn’t know what she would do if Jasmyn and the baby were harmed because she failed to protect them.
“You’re there. You should see her.”
“Stop the car,” she urged jumping out before it came to a complete stop. She looked around anxiously, but she didn’t see a body. However, something a few feet from the road glinted in the moonlight. She rushed over and to her dismay, and relief, lay the bracelet and no body. “Damn it, they found the tracker.”
Detective Sampson appeared next to her side. “Bad news. The helicopter I called in to trace the vehicle you were chasing lost contact with the vehicle. Sounds like they had a number of similar vehicles converge on the SUV you were chasing. When they emerged from the overpass the helicopter lost track of the correct vehicle. They gave chase to the one they felt was the correct vehicle and it turned out to be empty, aside from the driver.”
Donatella pounded a fist into the ground. Her mind raced on what to do next and she didn’t have a clue. Her phone rang, it was Marcellous.
“Yes, Marcellous?”
“They have loaded Jasmyn onto a plane. They are preparing to take off.”
Chapter 19
D onatella sat in silence as Detective Sampson pushed his ancient vehicle toward the airport. With the loss of adrenaline coursing through her system, her body felt the effects of the high-speed crash with each jostling of the car. However, the physical pain she felt was minor in comparison to the mental anguish she endured knowing she let Jasmyn and Marcellous down. She didn’t have a clue where they had taken Jasmyn or what they planned to do with her. She knew she had to get her back and she would stop at nothing to see that done.
She had BJ trying his best to determine which plane they boarded and where the plane was headed. They were able to narrow the plane down to five private flights that had left the terminal, but they couldn’t chase all five. They needed a break, and they needed one now.
Sampson pulled into the cellphone lot next to Marcellous’ blue Tesla. Pulling old Betsy into the parking spot, she gave one final grunt and died before he could even turn off the ignition. You did good old girl was his passing thought as he opened the door for the last time.
Marcellous bolted from the car calm, yet intense. The worry was written within each wrinkle creasing his forehead. His eyes had narrowed, not in an accusatory fashion, but one laden with determination. A determination that pulsated from his skin into the atmosphere. He waited patiently as Donatella gingerly lifted herself from the sagging seat, using the doorframe to steady her movements. Before he could speak, the agent’s phone began to ring.
She peered down at the display, searching for the caller ID, Private. She answered.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite FBI agent.”
Donatella squeezed the phone, instantly recognizing the voice.
“The famous Donatella Dabria. Seems you and I have some unfinished business.”
“Where is Jasmyn –”
“Don’t you interrupt!” Buckley fired back in a rush. “Your job is to listen and not talk. You claim to be good at your job, yet, I continue to get close to the people you love most. How is that? It doesn’t matter. Everything you need to find me, and your precious Jasmyn was given to you long ago. You’re just too dense to figure it out. But I’m a good sport and simply killing Jasmyn would not be any fun. So, to that end, I’ll give you one final clue, but this clue comes with strings attached. Once I give you this clue you will once again be on the clock – for your hour of reckoning has come. But I’m giving you more than an hour – in fact, I’m giving you four hours.”
Donatella began to grit her teeth as the others looked on anxiously. She activated the speaker on the phone and placed it on the roof of the car while the other two circled around.
“Undoubtedly you know we have boarded a plane, we knew Marcellous was following us, but he posed no threat. Travel time has already been factored into the four-hour window I’m graciously giving you, but if you plan to save Jasmyn, you cannot afford to make any mistakes. Now,” she said with an exaggerated pause.
“I’m only going to say this once as I do not like repeating myself. One of these things is not like the others.”
The phone went dead on the other end as Marcellous, Sampson, and Donatella all looked at each other. Donatella set the clock on her phone knowing how maniacal Terri is about her timeframes.
“Just what in the hell does that mean?” Marcellous blurted out. “One of these things is not like the other! That’s the biggest load of shit I have ever heard.”
Sampson chimed in, “Does she mean one of the crimes is not like the other? The massacre at GIS is certainly different. All of the other crimes had only one victim while this one wiped out a number of people.”
Marcellous finding his ground again
, “Jasmyn is the only one they abducted and moved to a new location, could that be the meaning of her ambiguous clue?”
Both men looked over at Donatella. She had both eyes closed in intense concentration.
“Donatella, what is it? Do you have an idea?”
Silence endured for another 30 seconds. She sat there motionless with the intensity still evident. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and retrieved her phone from the hood. She found the number from her call log, pressed the green phone key and waited.
“BJ,” she said when the other end was connected. “Did one of the planes fly to Cleveland, Ohio?”
BJ, used to the curt manner, immediately pulled up his data. “Yes, one of the planes filed a flight plan to land in Cleveland –”
Donatella disconnected the call. “Marcellous, we need to take your car to hangar 33. Let’s go, we don’t have any time to waste.”
“What, what is it?” he asked, opening the door and sliding into the driver’s seat. Donatella ambled to the passenger’s side and with the grace of a bear, fell into the seat. Sampson sat in the back behind Donatella.
“Leave from this lot and head toward the terminal. Take the back-access road off to the right, this will take you to where the private planes are located. Hurry.”
Marcellous placed the car into gear and proceeded as directed.
“Buckley is correct, we had a major clue sitting in front of us the entire time. Detective Sampson, the night Samantha Young was murdered you found a card left in the picture frame. On the back there was an image.”
“Yea,” he responded. “It was an image of The Thinker.”
Donatella continued, “On the bottom of the canister at the GIS headquarters, there was an image.”
“Yea, it was the same image.”
“That is the key.”
“What,” Marcellous said incredulously, “What does the image of The Thinker have to do with the abduction of my wife?”
Hour of Reckoning (Donatella Book 2) Page 24