by Nick Thacker
Julie frowned, thinking. Ben loved this woman — she was sharp, her mind as quick as anyone he’d ever met. “Maybe,” she started, “maybe they were heading to a church? It’s a long shot, but —”
Reggie snapped his fingers. “That’s it!”
“A church?”
He shook his head. “No. Well, I don’t know. But I saw where they were heading.”
“Yeah, they were going up the highway. Toward the north side of the —”
“No,” he said. “I saw their GPS screen. They didn’t know the location of their destination, so they were using the car’s built-in dash display screen to find it. I saw the map, recognized the circular shape of the island, the smaller island at the center of the bay.”
Ben paced. He knew Reggie was tapping into his subconscious, working hard to recall every detail of the scene as it had played out. He had been trained to take these sorts of things in as a sniper, but he had shared with Ben and Julie in confidence that he had learned most of these ‘tricks’ from a far different source than the military.
Reggie had visited a counselor — a trained cognitive behavioral therapist who specialized in post-traumatic stress disorder — every week for about a year, many years ago. He had visited the man to help get a handle on the recurring memories that haunted and tormented him.
Memories, he’d shared with them, of the woman he had nearly married, long before he’d met Ben and Julie and the rest of the CSO, and long before he’d met the woman he’d eventually marry and then divorce.
Specifically, they were memories of the child — a baby girl — the woman had been carrying. His child. She had never been born, thanks to a decision the woman had made. The torture of it had gripped him with fear, panic, and a long-standing case of chronic anxiety. He’d wanted the child, but his girlfriend did not.
The therapist had taught him many tricks to help with the anxiety and panic attacks, including rapid eye movement techniques and the ability to ‘see’ memories as if they were playing out in real time, on command. By watching these ‘movies’ the mind created, Reggie’s counselor had explained, one can begin to work through traumatic experiences with a sense of detachment, leading to an objective and emotionless analysis of the memory, which could eventually help overcome the anxiety-inducing emotions that came with it.
In this way, and by practicing the methods for years, Reggie was able to recall events that had happened in almost the same way a person with an eidetic memory could. He could ‘see’ a scene in his mind as if he were a writer, detailing every nuance and feature of the set and its characters as it unfolded. It wasn’t always reliable, and it wasn’t always completely accurate, but — like the therapist had promised — it had proven to be a useful strategy to stave off the debilitating effects of trauma and anxiety.
Almost immediately after he’d run outside and seen the man pushing Sarah into the back of the vehicle, he’d made up his mind. He wanted to chase down the vehicle — whether or not he’d be able to do anything about it if he reached it was another thing altogether — so he’d started running.
He watched the replay in his mind, like a football coach playing game tapes back to the team. He studied the surroundings, most of them faint or hazy, unclear depictions of what they were supposed to represent. Street signs, businesses, other cars — these were all just a blur to his memory.
He’d had a singular focus, and the elements of his subconscious’ focus were brilliantly clear in his mind. He saw the car, how the light bounced off its sides, the curves of the vehicle’s frame and body. He saw the license plate, locking it into his memory, knowing that he would want to be able to recall that detail later.
He had sped up, almost able to reach the side of the vehicle as it too accelerated and drove away. There was nothing he could do, as the doors would have been locked anyway, but he continued running until he was pacing next to the car as it turned to leave the parking lot.
The rear windows were tinted, the deep black preventing him from seeing Sarah. The front window had a darker shade on them as well, but he could see the screen of the dashboard-mounted display shining out at him.
That’s it.
It suddenly came back to him, washing into his head like a surge of water hitting a lagoon. He felt it, knew it was real. He knew he could trust his mind’s eye to recreate an accurate image. The trouble was this was real life — not some police television show. He couldn’t manipulate the image in his mind. There was no zooming in or ‘enhancing’ it. He had whatever his mind had decided to store, and then whatever it decided to allow him to access.
He closed his eyes, trying as hard as possible to see it all over again. “I don’t know any of the geography of the island, but I saw the line on their GPS unit. I can probably get pretty close with a map.
“We started at the airport, then came down to the hotel.” He named the iconic highway that traveled around the interior of the main island, butchering the Greek name. “Drove down the… Eparchiaki Odos Firon-ormou Perissis and then headed inland a bit to the south.”
Julie was already ready. She had retrieved a tablet from one of their backpacks, connected it to the hotel’s wifi, and held it up to Reggie, the maps application open on the screen.
Reggie grabbed it, turning his head and tablet as he tried to make it the same size as the map he’d seen on the car’s screen. He shifted it, pinched the map to zoom in and out, then frowned and repeated the process. Finally satisfied, he put it down on the bed.
“There,” he said, tracing the map with an index finger. Ben saw the highway, Eparchiaki Odos Firon-ormou Perissis, labeled on the screen and watched Reggie trace the switchback, the hard-right turn on the highway, then the long straightaway that went through town. The route the highway — and Sarah, apparently — took.
“And then their route was going north, but it split off from the main highway, heading hard to the left, out over this little peninsula up here.”
“West,” Ben said.
“Yeah, exactly. It ended right at the water…” he paused, zooming in a bit. “Right around here.”
“They’re heading for a boat?”
“Probably,” he nodded. “It was too far away to see with any degree of accuracy, but it seemed like it was just past this church, the Ekklisia Theoskepasti.”
Sure enough, there was a winding, twisting road that continued past the church labeled on the map, running nearly all the way to the water.
Julie frowned. “Those are cliffs, I think. That’s why the road ends there.” She dragged her hand across the north-south border of the island. “This whole section is steep, if not straight down, but enough so that it’d be an impossible climb, especially without gear.”
“Well,” Ben said, “they’re doing it.”
Reggie nodded. “He’s right. That’s where they’re headed, I think. Maybe it’s to a boat, maybe there’s a building or something at the end of the road. But we need to go, now.”
Ben smiled, knowing Reggie wouldn’t take no for an answer. He, like Ben, never did. “I’ll call Mrs. E,” he said.
“Do it in the car,” Julie said, already moving. “She can join us after. If they’re still on the road, we know the license plate. Even if not, the trail just got hot again. She’s working on our transportation for tomorrow, but I’ve got the keys to the rental car here.”
Ben and Reggie nodded. “Works for me,” Reggie said.
The three of them headed to the door. There was nothing to take, nothing to prepare. They had a lead, and they intended to follow it, no matter where it led.
With any luck, Ben thought, it would lead them to at least another clue.
47
Ben
THEY REACHED THE SUV IN the parking lot and Ben got behind the wheel. There had been no communicating or decision-making. Ben had happened to be the one closest to the door, so he’d gotten in and started the engine. Julie and Reggie tumbled in as well, and before their seatbelts were fastened Reggie told him to move.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Ben grunted a response, throwing the large vehicle into reverse.
Julie pulled up her phone and found the church, Ekklesia Theoskepasti, on the map. She pressed the button to begin navigating toward it as Ben squealed the tires and sped up, heading out of the hotel’s parking lot.
He didn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to them, but he had also felt the urgency of the situation. The church was a good distance away, which meant the vehicle they were chasing could still be on the road.
It also meant they needed to be in a huge hurry. They would be driving along the coast, up a highway none of them were familiar with, through towns and farms and even a small city.
He gritted his teeth and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. Let’s hope the cops aren’t out tonight, he thought.
“We’re being tailed,” Reggie said from the backseat.
“What?” Ben asked. “Already?”
“Not police,” he head steadily, his head turned around, facing out the back windshield. “Looks like our Interpol friend.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Julie said. “He’s following us?”
“He did warn us not to do anything rash,” Ben said. “But he’s not really law enforcement here. Is there really anything he can do?”
Reggie met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Sure,” he said. “He can tail us. And then he can call in the real law enforcement, let them know we’re driving erratically, speeding on the highway. In a hurry to get somewhere.”
“Well let’s hope he’s just hungry, heading into town for dinner.”
“Yeah,” Julie said. “Let’s hope.”
“Julie,” Ben said. “Send Mrs. E a text, let her know we took the car. And let her know what’s going on.”
“Already did,” she replied, smiling.
Good, Ben thought. Hopefully she’s able to come up with something. She wouldn’t have a vehicle, he knew, but the woman was resourceful. Uber was a popular ride-sharing and personal taxi service on the island, so if she really needed to get somewhere she’d be able to.
Ben steeled himself and checked the rearview mirror again, gritting his teeth. He wasn’t a professional driver, but he doubted the Interpol guy was, either. Still, the man’s vehicle was lower to the ground but still heavy, and would likely be a better fit for taking the winding, hairpin turns on their route at a fast pace.
His SUV would have been great if they were somewhere off-road. Even then, the clearance on the suburban gas-guzzler was nowhere near high enough for a real off-roading experience. At the parks, Ben’s team typically drove around a Subaru or a Jeep, or, if they were hauling something or needed the space, a lifted truck that could push through the mountainous passes that filled with snow in the winter and runoff debris in the spring and summer.
He gripped the steering wheel, continuing to accelerate. The speed limit sign on the side of the highway told him the island-wide limit: 60 kilometers per hour. Ben felt it was a bit slow, but he knew the limit had been imposed due to the narrow, winding roads that cut across the island.
His speedometer told him he was about to hit 85 km/hr.
Ben couldn’t see the man driving, but he knew it was the Interpol agent, Sharpe. The car had matched their accelerations and lane changes. The man was clearly not worried about remaining invisible. He didn’t care if Ben knew he was following them.
Ben passed a block of cars in the right lane just as the first real turn came up. It was a hard right, and he sped up, hoping he wasn’t as bad a judge of the vehicle’s center of gravity as he thought he was. “Hold on,” he said, pushing the speed up to 95.
He didn’t need to warn them. Reggie was holding the handle above his window, Julie grabbing at the door on her right and center console on her left.
Thank God this place has normal roads, Ben thought, preparing for the turn. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he’d had to try to make the chase while learning to drive on the left side of the road, in the left side of the car.
The turn came quick — much quicker than he’d calculated. A few cars swerved out of his way, honking at him as he blew past. He tensed his jaw, leaning to the right. Come on. He felt the centripetal force and the inertia as the car door pushed against his left side, but he held fast on the wheel. His tricep was burning against the perceived weight of the vehicle as it struggled to change course.
Come on, he thought again. Hold on.
Then the turn was over, and he was faced with a nice, long straightaway. He let out a deep breath and turned to Julie. “You okay?” Ben asked.
She shook her head.
“Well you’d better get used to it,” Reggie said from the back seat. There’s going to be a few more of those —”
“I’m not concerned with the turns,” Julie said. “And that one was pretty tame, when you think about it.”
Ben nodded.
“I’m worried about the fact that Sharpe’s still on our tail,” she said, flicking her eyes to the side mirror next to her. “And now he’s got company.”
Ben felt his heart race as he looked out the mirror, through the back windshield. Two police cruisers had joined the Interpol sedan, their lights flashing brightly. They’d all made the turn easily and were now even closer to the SUV.
“Crap,” he said. “That’s not good.”
“Nope,” Reggie said.
Ben sped up, allowing the large vehicle to use its massive engine. They were traveling light, with only three passengers and no cargo, so Ben hoped they’d be able to outpace the three cars behind him, but it seemed as though the police cruisers were catching up.
He drove on like this for another few minutes, the cars behind him seemingly satisfied with a steady, nonstop chase.
And why shouldn’t they? he thought. They know there’s nowhere I can go.
It wasn’t like the chases he’d seen on television. The towns they were zipping through were sleepy, quiet places, with few cars on the roads and plenty of space for drivers to get out of the way. Further, there wasn’t a never-ending stretch of countryside to travel through, nor was there a separate jurisdiction those pursuing would have to worry about.
Here on the island, they only thing they had to consider was running out of gas.
And he guessed that their cars were far better suited for gas mileage than his.
He was about to comment about that fact, asking Reggie for his opinion of their situation, when he noticed a two-car roadblock up ahead. The police behind him had apparently gotten in touch with the rest of their team, who had then scrambled and set up two of their patrol cars just outside the little town, completely blocking the road. Their cars were angled with their fronts toward oncoming traffic, likely an additional security mechanism. By pointing their cars at the getaway vehicle and then applying the emergency brake, a head-on impact with the two cars would be less likely to work.
There were two officers standing in front of their vehicles, playing the deadly game of I bet you’ll stop before you hit me.
“Reggie…” his voice trailed off.
“I see it,” Reggie said quietly.
“Ideas?” Ben asked.
“Those cars aren’t going anywhere. They’ve got their brakes on. If we try to push through, those cars will just slide backwards a bit. Even if we get through, it’s not going to be on the first try. By then the guys behind us will be on us.”
“And if we do hit them, we’re risking those police officers’ lives,” Julie said. “Not to mention ours.”
Ben sucked in a quick breath, scanning the area. The road was in a desolate area, a good choice for the police. There would be no chance of collateral damage out here, and no one else would be in danger.
To the right side of the road, all the way to the edge of the pavement, was a pile of murderous boulders, piled up and spread over the acre or so of land. That’s a death wish, he thought.
But to the left of the road…
No, he tho
ught. No way.
He flashed a quick glance at Julie. There was no time to talk it out. No time to discuss their options and decide on their best strategy. Reggie and Julie were at his mercy, trusting that he’d make the right call.
To the left of the road, about three feet from the edge, was nothing. A cliff fell hundreds of feet straight down, right into the rocky shallows that abutted the island. The gentle dark sea was just beyond that.
Here goes, he thought.
He turned the wheel, sliding the car off the side of the road. The gravel and rocky earth next to the road immediately shot up behind them as they bounced over it, creating a haze of white in his mirrors. They drifted closer, closer, to the cliff. Hold it together, he willed himself. He wasn’t necessarily afraid of heights, but his peripheral vision was sending out the alarm to the rest of his mind that they were way too close to death by driving here.
He turned the wheel back again to straighten it out, aiming the SUV right at the back end of the police car on the left.
“Ben,” Julie whispered. Her voice was soft, but frantic. “What are you —”
She didn’t have time to finish the question. He slammed down on the gas pedal, giving the last bit of juice to the heavy SUV. It screamed in reply, sending them flying forward, directly at the police car. He noticed one of the officers gaping at them as they launched past their position, the other one already dodging the SUV-sized missile.
He held the wheel, his rock-hard grip refusing to give. Hold it.
The SUV smacked into the much smaller, much lighter car and kept going forward. The car spun sideways, a sickening crunching and scraping sound reaching his ears as it simply disappeared from his vision. He was thrown forward in his seat, the tight seatbelt cutting into his shoulder, but the airbags didn’t deploy.
The SUV barreled through the back of the car as if it weren’t even there, and then just like that they were through.
There was nothing but open road behind them.
“Ben!” Reggie shouted. “That… was…”
He smiled, then felt dizzy, feeling the rush of adrenaline pouring into him. Julie laughed, and Reggie continued opening and closing his mouth, but no words were coming out.