Ryan Quinn and the Lion's Claw

by Ron McGee

  NEW YORK,

  USA

  Crisp is there,” Kasey said, staring at the antiques shop across the street. “I saw him move past the window.”

  Kasey and Tasha had a good vantage point from inside an Indian restaurant. Tasha had ordered chicken curry and two sodas, but only so they could take a table near the front window. Neither of them had an appetite. In fact, the fragrant smell of yellow curry was making Kasey a little queasy.

  Tasha had barely spoken to her. The young woman’s rage was unmistakable. One fist clenched her cell phone so hard the knuckles were white. Kasey pushed the plate toward her.

  “Want some?”

  “No.” Tasha didn’t even glance at it. Her gaze was locked on Braxton Crisp’s shop. Kasey wasn’t very fond of Tasha, but she understood the pain she had gone through.

  “I lost a parent, too,” she said. “Nothing hurts that much.”

  Tasha turned, fire in her eyes. Kasey had the feeling she was about to tell her to go to hell. But something shifted. For the first time, Kasey saw a crack in Tasha’s tough facade. She stared at Kasey a moment, then nodded slightly.

  “No. Nothing does.”

  “It helps to talk about it. I had my brothers and my dad. Do you have anybody you can talk to?”

  The defensive armor was back in an instant. “I don’t need anybody.”

  “Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

  Tasha clearly didn’t like being told what to do, especially by a teenager. But Kasey had been through it herself and knew she was right.

  Before Tasha could respond, Jacqueline’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie on the table between them. “We’re in position.”

  Tasha hit the talk button. “Crisp is inside. We have visual confirmation.”

  “Kasey, is Danny ready?”

  Tasha raised the walkie, and Kasey leaned in. “As soon as you give the word.”

  “Then tell him to do it. Tasha, make the call, then watch the front.”

  “Got it.”

  Kasey felt a thrill of excitement as the operation swung into action. Braxton Crisp kept the leather journal where he’d written down all the ERC identities locked tightly away in his safe. Their goal was to trick the horrible little man into removing it so they could steal it from him.

  Kasey’s role was supersmall—all she had to do was call Danny. Jacqueline didn’t want her getting close to Crisp again. But at least she was getting to do something.

  Kasey hit the video chat app on her phone. Within seconds, she was connected to Danny again.

  “If we’re gonna do this, it has to be now,” he said. “Mr. Quinn’s friend is about to drag me out the door.”

  “We’re good to go. You sure it’ll work?”

  “When that douche bag looks at his bank account again, he’s gonna need new underwear!” Danny turned from the screen, typing on another computer. “All right, the program’s running. Gotta go.”

  “Danny, you’re the best.”

  “Have to admit, hearing that never gets old.” He winked and the video chat cut off.

  Kasey gave Tasha a thumbs-up. Tasha dialed, leaning in a little so Kasey could hear. After a couple of rings, Kasey could just make out Crisp’s voice as he answered.

  “Braxton Crisp. How may I be of service?”

  Tasha’s lips twisted into a predatory snarl. “You thought you could kill me, you sniveling weasel?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation before he responded. “Ms. Levi, I assure you that was never my intention.”

  “You lied to me from the start. About what happened to my father—about everything.”

  “We should meet—”

  “Guess where I’m sitting right now, Crisp?” Tasha lowered her voice, whispering fiercely. “At the New York field office of the FBI. I just told several agents all about you and your little side business.”

  “What?” Crisp snapped. Kasey heard the panic in his tone. “I don’t believe you. Even you wouldn’t do something that idiotic.”

  “Wanna bet? I only called because I want you to know that I’m the one who brought you down. They’ve already frozen your Cayman Islands account. And they’re putting a team together to come arrest your sorry butt now.”

  Tasha was channeling all of her hate into the call. Kasey prayed it was enough to convince Crisp. If he bought her act, then he would hopefully be checking his bank account online right this second. And he’d be in for a big surprise.

  Danny and his hacker friends couldn’t actually freeze Crisp’s account or take any of the illicit money he’d stashed there. The bank’s online security was way too hard to penetrate. So they did something much sneakier, using the bank’s own security against it.

  They knew Braxton Crisp’s bank account number, so Danny created a program that attempted to charge thousands of dollars to his account from locations all around the world. All these transactions triggered the bank’s security features. In order to prevent massive fraud, the system was designed to instantly freeze the account. All Crisp could see was that his money was frozen, but he had no idea the FBI had nothing to do with it!

  “You stupid little snit,” he snarled, all trace of civility gone. Evidently, he’d confirmed it. Crisp had millions of dollars in that account, and now he couldn’t touch one cent of it. “I’ll kill you myself!”

  “Not from a federal prison, you won’t. You messed with the wrong girl, Crisp.” Tasha ended the call abruptly, turning to Kasey. “You think he bought it?”

  “Are you kidding? I bought it, and I knew it was a lie!” They both looked toward the shop window across the street.

  The idea was to flush Crisp out and get him on the run. If he believed the FBI was coming to arrest him, he’d be desperate to get out of the country as quickly as possible. And of course, he’d take the leather journal with the ERC identities with him.

  Jacqueline and Edward, the burly Native American man Kasey had run into outside the brownstone, were covering the rear entrance. The assumption was that Crisp would come out the back and they’d be there to take him down. If he happened to go out the front, Tasha would follow him until they could get around and help her.

  Within moments, the Closed sign was flipped over in the front window. Crisp peeked out, then disappeared.

  Tasha keyed the walkie. “He took the bait. Looks like he’s heading your way.”

  Kasey and Tasha waited anxiously, feeling powerless.

  “A Suburban just pulled up to the back door,” Jacqueline reported with frustration. “At least three men. You’d think they’re guarding the president, the way they have him surrounded. Change of plan—we’ll have to follow by car, see where he goes.”

  Tasha was already standing, taking the walkie. “I’ll head south, let me know which way they go.”

  She slammed through the swinging door and raced out to her BMW without a good-bye. Kasey deflated. The mission would carry on without her. She stood to go, but the waitress blocked the way.

  “You ready for the check?”

  “Right—sorry.” Kasey dug in her pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. As the waitress left to make change, she glanced out the glass door. Kasey suddenly froze, not believing what she was seeing.

  Across the street, Braxton Crisp was coming out of his store. He wore a fedora to cover his bald head and carried a weathered brown shoulder bag. Looking around nervously, he hurried up the block. The Suburban and all the men at the back must have been a decoy!

  Kasey swung the front door open.

  “Your change,” the waitress called.

  “Keep it!” Pulling out her phone to call Jacqueline, Kasey hurried through the midday crowds.

  Braxton Crisp wasn’t getting away.

  CHAPTER

  47

  HOUDALI,

  LOVANDA, AFRICA

  The mood in Liberty Plaza had transformed from subdued to euphoric. As Anbo and Delilah launched into another number, the crowd sang along and danced. Sekhmet Tec
hnologies workers managed to unplug one of the giant screens, but the others continued to show the concert.

  Perched on a low wall, Ryan saw over everyone’s heads. The police officers guarding the prisoners appeared panicked and uncertain. Throngs of revelers had cut off their access to the gallows.

  Across the plaza, Madame Buku watched the chaos from the balcony. She yelled at a uniformed officer as she pointed to a screen. The statue of the African warrior and the baby was easy to spot behind Delilah. Hopefully, that would pull the cops away to the park on the other side of town. Ryan searched for Laughlin, but didn’t see him anywhere.

  All at once, police officers began to hurry away. Lights flashed and sirens wailed as squad cars raced from Liberty Plaza. Ryan felt a rush of adrenaline—the plan was working.

  Moments later, the prisoners were on the move again. Police ushered them back toward the bus, fighting their way through the increasingly restless crowd. One bystander reached out and attempted to grab Jaz’s hand as she passed. An officer hit him with the butt of his rifle, knocking the man down.

  “They’re heading back to the bus,” Ryan reported. He jumped off the ledge and followed, keeping out of sight. The officers yelled at the prisoners, urging them to move quickly. Jaz and the others lumbered along. Their chained hands and ankles made walking difficult.

  The door to the battered old prison bus stood open and waiting. Caden sat behind the steering wheel dressed in the driver’s uniform, hat pulled low so his face was less visible. They had duct-taped the unconscious driver’s hands and feet, then dragged him behind the bushes so he was hidden from view. He’d wake up in a couple of hours with a terrible headache.

  When the bus had arrived, only the driver and one guard escorted the prisoners. Hopefully, that wouldn’t change now. Ryan’s dad was hidden inside. He could take out one guard, but if more boarded, he’d be outnumbered and the job would be much harder.

  Ryan crept as close as possible, poised to do whatever he could to help his father. The prisoners were shoved in, trying not to fall as they stumbled up the steep metal steps. The guard who arrived with them was the last to board. As soon as the door swished closed, all the police officers took off running for vehicles. Every available unit was being called to the park.

  The bus started forward as Ryan watched anxiously. Steel bars over the windows made seeing inside difficult, especially in the dark. A sudden burst of light illuminated the interior as a loud crack rang out—a gunshot from the rifle!

  Ryan charged forward, fearing the worst. As he reached the back bumper, the bus screeched to a stop. The door swished open once more and a body tumbled out. Ryan raced to it with dread … but it was only the guard, moaning from a blow to the head.

  Dad poked his head out. “Let’s go.”

  Ryan was flooded with relief, but then noticed his father looking beyond him in alarm. He whirled around. At the far end of the street, a white SUV peeled around the corner. Laughlin and his men sped toward them. Their high beams blasted the bus, spotlighting Ryan with intense white light.

  “Get in!”

  Ryan jumped aboard. “Those are Madame Buku’s mercenaries.”

  Calm and focused, Dad thrust the guard’s keys into Ryan’s hands. “Get everybody unlocked.” He turned to Caden. “Better let me drive.”

  Caden jumped out of the driver’s seat, immediately rushing to the only female prisoner other than Jaz. This woman must be his wife. They hugged tightly for a brief moment before the bus lurched forward.

  Ryan turned to the shocked prisoners. “Grab hold of something! It’s gonna get bumpy.”

  As his father shifted the bus into gear and revved the engine, the bus picked up speed. Ryan knelt in front of Jaz, frantically unlocking her cuffs and shackles.

  “My name’s Ryan,” he told her. “I’m a friend of Anbo and Delilah’s.”

  “I saw them on the screens. The police know where they are!” She was terrified and on the run, but still worried about her friends. Ryan liked her instantly.

  “They’re gonna be fine. You all are.”

  Ryan didn’t actually feel as confident as he sounded, but she didn’t need to know that. As the bus gained speed, he moved on to the next prisoner.

  “Ryan, make sure everybody stays low!” Dad yelled.

  It flashed through Ryan’s mind that, at this moment, they weren’t just father and son. He and Dad were partners. And it didn’t feel strange at all. In fact, it felt completely natural.

  Then the first bullet shattered the back window and everyone screamed! Ryan and the others dropped to the floor.

  Dad punched the gas, and the bus shot forward.

  CHAPTER

  48

  NEW YORK,

  USA

  Kasey was less than half a block behind Braxton Crisp. She was careful to keep hidden behind other people, knowing Crisp would recognize her. He had turned off Columbus Avenue and was cutting across to Central Park West, clutching the brown shoulder bag tightly to his side. The way he was protecting it made Kasey think the leather journal was probably stashed inside.

  “He’s heading toward the park,” Kasey reported to Jacqueline.

  “Don’t follow him in there,” Jacqueline ordered. “We’re coming around on 72nd—we’re only a couple of minutes away.”

  “We could lose him by then. He’ll disappear with all those names.”

  “Kasey, you’ve done an amazing job. But Crisp is a trained operative. Keep your distance. We’re turning onto Central Park West now.”

  There was a big crowd, so Kasey risked getting a little closer as Crisp crossed the big boulevard that bordered Central Park. When they reached the other side, he suddenly stopped and raised his arm. He was hailing a cab. Crisp wasn’t heading to the park at all. He’d crossed to Central Park West so he could get a taxi heading uptown instead of downtown. Jacqueline and Edward were coming from the wrong direction—they wouldn’t be able to follow him!

  A yellow cab cut across traffic to the curb. As it arrived, Crisp let go of the shoulder bag and reached for the back door handle. If he got inside that taxi, they might lose him forever. He’d go right back to selling all the names of the ERC members to the highest bidders.

  Kasey reacted instinctively. She charged forward and grabbed the strap of the shoulder bag. Crisp was caught off guard as she yanked the bag from his shoulder. She took off running as he whirled around.

  “Hey! Stop—thief!” Crisp was right behind her, already giving chase.

  Kasey dodged between people on the sidewalk. She glanced back and saw Crisp catching up. He might be older, but he was in good shape.

  Park benches lined the low stone wall that surrounded Central Park. Kasey stepped up on one and used it to leap over the wall. A young kid wearing headphones yelped in surprise as she sprang past him.

  Kasey landed and looked back. Crisp didn’t slow down, jumping the wall easily. She scurried through the trees and brush. Carrying the shoulder bag made it hard to run.

  Kasey darted across the jogging path and tried to cut around a tree, but her foot snagged on a root. She tripped, tumbling to the ground. The bag’s flap opened and the contents spilled everywhere.

  Crisp caught up, his eyes latching instantly onto the leather journal that now lay on the ground. Kasey snatched it up, prepared to run once more.

  “I’d hate to have to shoot you, little girl.” Crisp had produced a gun—one of the antique weapons from his shop. An old German Luger like the Nazis used. “But I will if you don’t give me that.”

  Kasey clutched the book to her chest, looking around for help. No one was close enough to see what was happening, but they’d hear her if she screamed.

  Crisp stepped forward, pulling back the hammer on the gun and preparing to fire. “Give me the journal!”

  “Kasey, run!” From behind the tree, Tasha appeared. She barreled into Crisp, bear-hugging him with both arms. They fell with a thud as a shot rang out. Tasha rolled to the side and shouted, “Ge
t that book out of here!”

  Kasey ran as people reacted to the gunshot, screaming and hiding. She emerged onto one of the wide streets that meandered through the park, but jerked back as a car honked. Not paying attention nearly got her run over!

  Behind her, Kasey saw Tasha and Crisp trade blows. Tasha knocked him to the ground, then advanced. Crisp twisted around and fired once more. The shot hit Tasha in the stomach and she doubled over.

  “Tasha!” Kasey was horrified as the young woman fell to the ground. Crisp got back to his feet and continued his pursuit of Kasey.

  She dashed across the street and suddenly knew exactly how she could make sure Braxton Crisp never got those names back. Running alongside the street was the Central Park Lake, a huge body of water that was an oasis in the middle of the city. A mother picked up her child and hurried away as Kasey rushed toward the shoreline.

  “Stop!”

  Crisp approached the street, gun aimed at Kasey. She didn’t hesitate. Treating the leather journal like a Frisbee, she flung it as far as possible. The journal sailed through the air, pages flapping in the wind, then landed with a splash.

  “No!” Crisp appeared deranged as he ran forward. But his entire focus was on the journal, so he never saw the truck hurtling along West Drive. The truck driver slammed on the brakes, but there was no way to stop in time. The vehicle hit Crisp with a bone-shattering impact.

  The driver leaped out to check on Crisp. Kasey realized she was hyperventilating and took a couple of deep breaths. She had to keep it together. Tasha needed help.

  As people rushed toward the accident, Kasey made her way back across the street. She was relieved to discover Jacqueline already kneeling over Tasha. There was a lot of blood. Jacqueline applied pressure to the wound as a bystander called 911. Tasha was pale and weak, but her eyes were open. She locked eyes with Kasey.

  “The journal?”

  Kasey tried to sound brave. “It’s gone—destroyed. We did it.”

  “Nice.”

  The bystander hung up their call. “Ambulance is on the way. How is she?”

  Somehow, Jacqueline managed to sound calm and cool. “I think she’ll be fine.” She turned to Kasey and said quietly, “You need to get out of here. Now.”