by Ben Follows
"You're coming with me," said Jason sternly.
"Shouldn't have done that," said Lauren.
Jason raised an eyebrow.
Lauren turned and screamed. "Help! He has a gun!"
"Shit," said Jason, releasing her arm and jumping off his stool, "what the fuck are you doing?"
The truckers who had been sitting around the bar jumped up and looked at the source of the screaming.
An immense trucker, probably over three hundred pounds but who clearly knew how to handle himself, walked up and stood between Lauren and Jason. "What’s the problem, buddy?" said the large trucker. "You messing with this little lady?"
Jason took a few steps back, clearly intimidated, but then he swallowed and cleared his throat. He raised the gun and pointed it at the man, who flinched just enough for it to be visible. It didn't seem like it was the first time he'd had a gun pointed at him.
Lauren took a few more steps back, glancing at the door.
"She's coming with me," said Jason. "There's nothing you can do about it."
A few of the other truckers, apparently encouraged by the large man's bravery, stepped up beside him, making a wall between Jason and Lauren, who was inching toward the door.
The bartender crouched behind the bar.
"Call the police," said Lauren to the bartender.
The bartender looked at her for a long moment, then nodded and scrambled on all fours to the phone.
"Move," said Jason to the immense trucker, "or I will shoot. I've done it before, and I'll do it again."
The large trucker laughed, but he seemed less confident. "Bring it on. The police will be here any second."
Jason raised the gun and cocked it. "Lauren," he said with his voice raised. "You might want to run. I'll be right behind you."
"You ain't going nowhere," said the large trucker.
Lauren inched her way to the door and pushed it open. The bartender was on the phone, talking to the police.
Jason gritted his teeth. "You've all gotten in the way of me saving my daughter. All I care about is her."
"What--?" said the big trucker.
Jason pulled the trigger. Lauren watched a spray of blood coming out of the back of the big trucker. At first, he didn't move at all, then he stumbled backward a few steps, grabbing at his chest.
The other truckers jumped back, cursing as the big man fell to his knees.
Jason took advantage of the commotion and ran full speed at Lauren, the gun still in his arms.
He jumped through the gap that had opened between the truckers.
Lauren ran.
She burst through the door into the parking lot, her heart racing. She silently prayed that the police would be able to respond in time.
Her car was sitting at the edge of the parking lot. She sprinted toward it.
She heard a gunshot and looked back.
Jason was lying on his back in the doorway of the bar, looking inside. He was aiming the gun back at the big trucker, who lay motionless on the ground, his hand wrapped around Jason's leg.
Jason shook off the big man and made eye contact with Lauren as he turned and started running.
Lauren stumbled as she turned too fast and had to regain her balance as she sprinted toward her car. Parking under the streetlight had seemed like a smart idea at the time, but now it seemed impossibly far away.
She looked back.
Jason was gaining on her, his arms pumping.
The sound of sirens came from the distance, ripping down the highway toward the isolated bar at top speed.
They weren't going to make it in time.
Lauren made it to her car. She grabbed the handle. The door was locked.
"Fuck!" she shouted out. She reached into her pocket, fumbling as she tried to get her keys. She finally managed to pull them out and unlock the car door.
Jason was within a dozen feet.
She climbed into the car and put the key in the ignition. The car revved to life.
The driver's side door flew open, and Jason reached into the car, the gun still held in his other hand.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her as hard as he could out of the driver's seat. He reached inside the car and pushed a button. Lauren heard the distinct sound of the trunk popping open.
"No!" she screamed, swinging her arms at Jason as he dragged her toward the trunk. "No!" She tried kicking at his groin, but Jason was expecting it and managed to block it with his leg. "Stop! Jason! I refuse to help you if you don't stop!"
"This is about my daughter," said Jason. "I will burn down every city in the world to save her. Remember that. There is nothing I won't do to save her."
The sirens were getting close.
Jason opened the trunk as Lauren kept fighting him, accomplishing nothing.
He threw her into the trunk.
"Watch your legs," said Jason, raising his gun.
She slowly pulled her legs into the trunk.
Lauren could see the reflection of the sirens from the police cars coming around the corner just as Jason slammed down the trunk. She was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from a small gap between the back seats of the car.
"Freeze!" one of the cops yelled from somewhere outside the trunk.
Jason didn't reply. Lauren listened as the front door of the car opened and closed.
"Stop right there!" a cop yelled.
Jason paid them no mind, and as the car accelerated and Lauren was thrown against the back of the car, she wondered whether this would truly be the end.
Then her fingers brushed something in the darkness of the trunk.
It was the gun her brother had given her. She slowly wrapped her fingers around the grip and smiled.
She had a way to fight back.
Chapter 23
"Listen, Curtis," said Johnson, leaning over the desk with a fatherly demeanor, "I want to help you in any way I can. Understand?"
Curtis looked up at Johnson. They were back in the FBI offices and had just learned that the USB they'd found in Lauren Mavis's home was useless.
Johnson had taken the opportunity to continue his efforts at being Curtis's surrogate father. Curtis hated every second of it.
"I don't need another father," said Curtis. "Just be my boss. That's all this relationship is."
Johnson leaned back. "Fine," he said. "You're a great FBI agent, and I know the therapist wasn't as certain about getting you back into the field as you were. We made a deal that--"
There was a knock at the door. Curtis let out a deep breath.
Johnson said, "Come in!"
Frankie stepped into the room. "Come with me," she said to Curtis. "There's been a shooting at a bar on the highway a few hours west of here. Lauren Mavis was kidnapped by Jason Wilson. Two fatalities at a truck stop. A few other injuries as well."
"Shit," said Curtis. "Where are they now?"
Frankie nodded to Johnson then turned back to Curtis. "Police are in pursuit. It's the car Lauren Mavis rented in New Jersey. We need to leave now."
"Okay," said Curtis, jumping from his seat and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. "Let's go."
"Curtis," said Johnson.
Curtis stopped in the doorway and looked back at his boss.
"Be safe," said Johnson with a smile.
Curtis wanted to snap at Johnson, but the short comment felt nice, so he just shot him a quick smile and joined Frankie outside the office.
They walked to the elevator and rode to the main floor in silence.
His mind filled with a million different thoughts as they descended, but one in particular stuck out.
This was a live case. There was danger involved. He might be running out of time to do the things he'd been putting off.
As they stepped off the elevator into the large lobby of the FBI building, he took his phone out of his pocket and took a deep breath.
"Frankie," he said.
She turned back with a raised eyebrow.
"Pu
ll the car around. I need to make a quick call."
Frankie looked like she was about to say something, but something in Curtis's expression must have changed her mind because she nodded and walked away.
Curtis walked to a corner of the lobby furthest from any desks or doorways.
He looked down at his phone and typed in the number he had been unable to forget for the last few months. He pushed the call button.
The phone rang a few times.
Then it was answered, and a woman said, "Hello?"
Curtis felt his breath catch in his throat. He had always remembered her voice as something majestic and magical. He had managed to convince himself that his memory was playing tricks on him, that there was no way her voice was really that beautiful.
"Hi, Amber," he said slowly. "It's Curtis."
Chapter 24
Natasha paid for her cab and climbed out.
She walked up to the front door of the New York Times and stepped inside. The receptionist made her sign in and instructed her to ride up to the twelfth story.
She was led to an office where she was told to sit down and wait for the editor to come back from his lunch meeting.
She sat and looked around the office.
The door opened behind her and the editor, Steven Cannell, walked into the room. He was in good shape except for a slight gut which he didn't seem too concerned about.
"Okay," he said, falling into his chair. "What have you got for me? Normally I don't take meetings with people I don't know, but I've heard from your publisher that you have a book coming out next week and that the Henry Mavis story is related to it."
"I have more than that," said Natasha, smiling. She reached into her bag and took out her notes.
She handed the typed-up notes across the table to Cannell, who took them and leaned back. He took his glasses from his pocket and placed them on his nose. The glasses made him look like a librarian trapped in a middle-aged man's body.
As he flipped through the pages, he put a hand to his mouth like he was deep in contemplation.
"All this about Curtis Mackley is true?" he said. "You've verified it?"
"I'm waiting for a few calls back."
"This is good," said Cannell. "This is really good. Especially the whole thing about abandoning his son. Not to mention the fact his family worked for Sam Marino. We can use this. We can absolutely use this. Good work, uhh . . ."
"Natasha Nolowinski."
"Right. Miss Nolowsinki, can you have an article finished for the morning edition? Midnight at the latest? Say. . . 600 words?"
"It's almost finished," said Natasha, smiling. "I was waiting for the go ahead."
Chapter 25
Raymond Eaton twirled a coin between his fingers and looked over the house where he had set up his operations. He was a strong man with three scars down the right side of his neck.
He put on foot on the railing and looked down at the entrance to the mansion. He had received word that Jason Wilson had captured the hacker.
His father's military operation had taken over a large mansion from the military twenty years prior. Raymond Eaten Sr. had turned this house into the base of one of the largest mercenary companies on earth, larger than the American military would have been comfortable with.
Therefore, they needed to conceal their size. The biggest issue was the amount of money they were making. It needed to be hidden. This was achieved by spreading the money across shell corporations, and American military bases, particularly the military bases no one was paying attention to.
No one had figured anything out.
Until Lauren Mavis.
Although they had known from the minute that the first money had been stolen from St. Jonathans Air Force Base, they hadn't done anything about it. Raymond had assumed it was the cost of doing business. Making a stink about it would only reveal their hand.
However, now he needed a win. Raymond's father was on his deathbed, and he was set to take over the company. The generals who reported directly to Raymond were uneasy about his leadership capabilities and were sure to oust him at the first indication that he was unfit to lead them.
Raymond wasn't going to let that happen. He had prepared his whole life to take over this company, and he wasn't going to lose it.
Retrieving the money that had been taken from them would do the trick.
His investigation had revealed Jason Wilson as the weak link. He had ordered one of his mercenaries to kidnap Jason's daughter and had given him an ultimatum.
It was perfect.
Someone cleared their throat behind him. Raymond removed his foot from the railing and turned.
His second-in-command, Meredith Baker, was standing in front of him. She was a large woman with thick glasses and an inability to match colors.
"What is it, Baker?" said Raymond.
"There's a problem," she said. "Wilson has Lauren Mavis, but he is being pursued by the police. Apparently, there was a fatality."
Raymond nodded. "Get in contact with Wilson. Under no circumstances is he to bring the hacker here until he is certain no one is following him."
"Yes, sir," said Meredith.
"Oh, and Meredith."
"Yes?"
"Remind him about his daughter."
"Of course, sir."
Raymond sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt he hated. "How is the girl doing? I feel bad for keeping her locked up for so long. I assumed Wilson would have been faster."
"She's fine," said Meredith. "I'll check on her and report back to you."
Raymond nodded. "Thank you."
Meredith left, and Raymond clenched the railing until his knuckles turned white.
The ultimatum to Jason Wilson had been simple.
Get me the money, or I kill your daughter.
If Jason failed, Raymond knew the Generals would expect him to be the one to pull the trigger. If he was going to make ultimatums, he needed to follow through on his threats.
He had thought he was willing to do anything to consolidate his power.
But as it became more realistic, he was terrified he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger and end the life of a ten-year-old girl.
"Come on, Jason," he said under his breath. "Please don't make me do it."
Chapter 26
Curtis and Frankie drove up to the truck stop bar and through the perimeter of cops.
"You called Amber," said Frankie as she parked.
Curtis nodded.
"And?"
"I said I wanted to meet up and talk, but I was busy at the moment."
"And the kid?"
"She said he's fine. She didn't mention if there was anyone else in the picture or where they're living. She didn't say if she has been getting the money I've sent."
"How do you feel about it?"
Curtis shrugged. "It I've been thinking about doing it for months, and yet now that I've done it and talked to Amber, heard her voice, I feel nothing."
"Keep moving forward," said Frankie. "Come on, let's investigate this shooting."
She climbed out of the car before Curtis could respond. After a moment, he followed her. There was something off about Frankie he couldn't quite put his finger on.
They walked into the bar and took in the carnage. The dead body was still on the ground. It was a large man who looked like he had taken a bullet to the chest then crawled after the perpetrator. Curtis walked around the bar while Frankie spoke to the officers.
Curtis ran a finger along the bar and looked at his dust-covered finger. He looked at the empty beer bottles on the bar and at the grainy basketball game on the television.
A woman wearing a nametag was sitting in the corner, sipping at a cup of hot chocolate and with a blanket draped over her. A cop was sitting across from her and taking notes about her statement.
She seemed, understandably, pretty shaken up. Frankie walked over to Curtis and they walked to the woman.
"Hey," said Frankie, walking up to the table, "We're w
ith the FBI. Do you mind if we take over?"
The cop looked up at them, then nodded and left.
The woman looked up at them. She looked scared.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Meghan. I own this bar."
"Hi Meghan," said Frankie. She introduced herself and Curtis. "What can you tell us?"
"What do you want to know?" said Meghan. "I already told the cops everything that I can think of."
"Assume we don't know anything," said Frankie. "We're trying to connect this with a different case."
"Sure," said Meghan. "The girl came in here, looking pretty sullen. "She didn't look like most of the girls that come in here. The girls who come in here are usually pretty trashy."
Frankie nodded. "Tell us about the woman and the people who were here."
"She was probably here for like half an hour and had a few beers by the time that guy arrived. At first, I didn't think anything of it. She seemed like she knew him."
"Then everything went south?" said Frankie, taking notes.
"Yeah," said Meghan. "He pulled out a gun and Jerry, the guy who died, tried to protect her. By the time the cops got here," said Meghan, "it was too late."
"We'll do everything we can to solve this," said Curtis.
"Thank you," said Meghan. She clutched the cup of hot chocolate closer to her. "Is she going to be okay?"
"Who?"
"The woman."
"We'll do our best," said Curtis.
Curtis and Frankie asked a few more questions to the cops around the bar, then walked back to their car.
"We need to find Jason," said Frankie. "We have his last known location. We'll head there now.
Curtis nodded softly and leaned his head against the window as they pulled away from the truck stop.
Chapter 27
Debra Coleman sat in the basement of the FBI offices. Something had happened, or else the FBI agents would have come back by now.
She had a pretty good guess what it was, and it made her testimony worthless.
There was a reason Jason had warned her he was coming and given her a heads up.