Catalyst: A Red Dog Thriller (The Altered Book 1)

Home > Other > Catalyst: A Red Dog Thriller (The Altered Book 1) > Page 9
Catalyst: A Red Dog Thriller (The Altered Book 1) Page 9

by Blou Bryant


  Wyatt pleaded with the crowd, “Don’t let her get away, she’s got a hostage.”

  The large sweaty trucker bent down to look into the car, but even seeing Hannah in the back, he shook his head and said, “I won’t shoot a girl.”

  Jessica gave a little wave to Wyatt and winked, “See you honey, good luck with this.” She got in and backed out, wheels squealing.

  Wyatt just shook his head, there was nothing he could do. Checkered-shirt guy took a few steps forward, and looked directly at him, “So, son, you started this,” he said, his eyes wide and his face flushed. “What’s next?”

  Lewis echoed the statement, “What’s the next part of your plan?”

  Wyatt watched the tail lights of the car vanish around the turn, headed towards Detroit again. “We follow them. We get out of this,” he said, and turned to ask the trucker, “Can you hold these guys and give us a head-start?”

  Lewis shook his head, “I don’t run.”

  “Man, that’s what you do best,” said Checkered-shirt. “Don’t stay here, get somewhere safe. Yes, we can hold them, for you and for Wilbur.”

  Wyatt felt a wave of sadness at the memory of the dead man and nervously tried to rub the dried blood off his hands onto his jeans. To Lewis, he said, “Hannah has been kidnapped, and you are the only one who can help her. Anyhow, look around. If you stay here, it will only lead to blood.”

  Lewis was quiet and didn’t reply at first, but Wyatt was now used to the man and didn’t push him. Lewis pulled Golde over to Checkered shirt and said, “Keep him. Put their weapons in the trunks of their cars and let them drive out of here in a half hour. Can you do that?”

  The other man offered his hand and Lewis took it, and gave it three pumps, “Sorry for the beating,” he said.

  “Screw that, I’ll drink for free off this story for years, good luck man,” the other man said and grabbed Golde by the back of his shirt. “Come on, moneybags, you’re with me now.” As he walked back to the crowd, Golde in tow, he turned and said, “Get out of here.”

  Lewis turned towards his patrol car, when Wyatt said, “Wait,” and cautiously walked to the car that held Ford. With a glance at the officers who were only feet away from him, he opened the back door and let his friend out.

  With an “Awesome,” Ford joined them. They walked to Lewis’s car but Wyatt couldn’t just leave. He stopped for a moment and addressed the crowd, “Will you guys be all-right?”

  The guy with the checkered shirt laughed. “Nobody will touch me, I’m white, fly the flag and have a lot of friends.” He shook hands with Wyatt. “Name’s Willy Patterson.”

  The man with ‘American Made’ on his shirt clapped the other one on the back, “White boys gets benefit of the doubt, but they won’t touch me either. Armstrong Custer,” he said, holding out his other hand. “President of local 2433 of NTAW.”

  Wyatt shook the outstretched hand. He felt a surge of worry for these men and said, “Sure, but this guy,” Golde, he meant, “is rich and controls the police.” He couldn’t leave just yet, he’d got one man killed, was he doing the same with these people, was he using them, he worried.

  Custer said, “Boy, there’s a bit of a deal. It’s unwritten, but they don’t mess with us and we don’t mess with them unless necessary. Buddy there, he won’t want a strike from my guys.”

  “Police are union?”

  “Nope, but the guys who feed them are. The people who clean for them are, and the people who fix their cars are. Trust me, they don’t want me to Hoffa their ass.”

  “And what about you,” he asked Patterson, “Will you survive?”

  “It was friends of mine and me who drove the FBI out of Bridgeport last month over the grazing rights thing. You see any of us get arrested? Liberals complained but the media and enough politicians like us. I’ll be fine, nobody puts me in jail.”

  It’s like they have a contract, thought Wyatt and with that he moved on through the crowd, following the others. Every person they passed gave them slaps on the back as they walked by. Seconds later, Lewis peeled out of the parking lot.

  “Where to?” the football star and occasional officer asked the two boys in the back seat.

  Wyatt said, “Detroit was her plan, so it’s ours now too.” They hit the exit and the Detroit sign flashed by as they skidded down the entrance ramp, their destination only fifty miles away.

  Chapter 8

  Ford was the one who spoke first as they ripped down the highway, “Wow that was fun!” He punched Wyatt in the arm, his face flush with excitement. When he didn’t get a reply, Ford said, “Come on buddy, that was great, how are you not pumped right now?”

  Wyatt smiled, but it was forced, what with his hands covered with Wilbur’s blood and the knowledge that they were still in danger and on the run. The immediate risk from Golde and Jessica might be over but there was more ahead of them and behind. His friend might think this was a game but it was a game whose rules he was still didn’t understand, and one with serious consequences.

  Lewis looked at them in the mirror. “Well done, your friend is right. That was a great plan and the most excitement I’ve had since my seventy yard carry in the last conference final.” He paused briefly and he said, “Gotta remember excitement don’t last, we lost that game. Can’t lose today, it’s time to figure out what’s next.”

  “Follow them,” Wyatt said. “Hannah is still a hostage.”

  “We’re on the interstate, they can get off anywhere. The way she was driving, I don’t think we’ll catch up.”

  Wyatt said, “You’re police, drive faster than her, put on the lights.”

  “You want extra attention? I don’t. The lights stay off and I’ll do an easy eighty, no more. That should catch us up, if they don’t get off early.”

  Ford interrupted, “You don’t need to catch up, she’s headed to the Mennar Center, on the west side of Detroit.”

  “Why?” asked Wyatt, with a sideways glance at his friend.

  “No clue. She mentioned it while at the side of the road. You know, when you abandoned me,” Ford replied, “She wants Hannah to help her break into the center.”

  Wyatt got defensive at the mention of leaving his friend behind, “I didn’t have a choice, she would have taken off without me. Did Jessica say why she wants in there or how Hannah is connected?”

  Ford rubbed his chin and said, “I have no idea, I’m as baffled about it as you are.”

  “Are you?”

  Ford ignored the question. “Hey, aren’t you a football player,” he asked Lewis. Wyatt stared at his friend for a moment, and wondered why he’d switched topics. He knew Ford was lying. The best way to understand someone is to watch their lies, he thought.

  “Uh huh, I am. Right now I’m a cop who doesn’t like where this is headed. I don’t want to get you two in anymore trouble. I’ll drop you off somewhere safe.”

  “Safe?” asked Wyatt, “the only safe place for us is with you.”

  “We’ll get to Detroit, police there can watch you.”

  “You trust them?”

  The large man didn’t answer and they didn’t pursue it further. Curious, Wyatt leaned over and whispered, “So, tell me, what happened after I left?”

  Ford shrugged. “We searched for a while, but it was too dark to see anything. It didn’t take long until she gave up, and we returned to find the car gone. I knew Hannah must have returned, you’d never have left me alone with Jessica, not without a good reason.”

  “Thanks,” said Wyatt. “And her dad?”

  “It wasn’t more than fifteen minutes later, we were walking down the highway when him and his parade of cars, lights flashing, showed up. They put me in the back of a car and that’s where I’ve been for the last thirty minutes.”

  Up front, Lewis clicked a button. “Directions to the Mennar Center in Detroit.” Seconds later, the display lit up with a map.

  A computerized voice came over the speakers. “Continue eighty miles and take exit one-se
venty-five.” They passed a convoy of trucks driving inches apart, all automated, driving at what was likely an even fifty.

  “I’ll let you off somewhere safe when we get close,” said Lewis.

  Ford leaned forward and protested, his hands up against the plastic partition. “You can’t leave us behind.”

  “She’s got a gun, this is police business, I can’t include you.”

  “Golde has more guns than just one, and you know they’ll use them,” said Ford.

  “So, I’ll leave you with the police.”

  “I’ve not had a good experience with police so far tonight,” Wyatt said. “Are you sure it’s safe or are they contracted out just like in Chicago?” Despite this, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go with Lewis. The man was right, what am I going to do, he asked himself, storm in there and rescue Hannah, go up against a psychopath with a gun? I’ll just get myself killed. Still, the idea of Lewis leaving them at the side of the road or, even worse, deposited with the Detroit PD had no appeal. “Lewis, this guy has a lot of pull, you can’t trust anyone.”

  “I don’t have any choice in the matter, it’s the right thing to do. I can’t bring you with me, and I can’t leave your friend with Golde’s daughter,” replied Lewis.

  Wyatt didn’t know how to convince him, but he had a feeling that he would, when the time was right.

  They drove in silence for almost half an hour. To the East, the sky brightened as they approached the lights of the city of Detroit. He checked the clock on the dash, it was now a quarter to four in the morning, and it wouldn’t be long before the sun replaced man-made light. He spent the time mentally reviewing the events of the evening, in an attempt to better understand the goals of all the players in the game.

  When the direction came to turn off, he asked, “What is your plan, Lewis?” The GPS indicated that they were only twenty miles away.

  “Same as before. I will find a place to drop you off, go to Mennar, and arrest Jessica.”

  “And what are we supposed to do?” asked Wyatt.

  Lewis didn’t notice and said, “You boys just wait for me to return.”

  Ford shook his head. “No, you can’t go in alone, let us help you.”

  Lewis was firm. “She’s armed and I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

  “How will you stop us? I’m going in either way. Will you drag me kicking and screaming out of the car in the middle of Detroit?”

  Lewis looked back through the partition with a firm expression, and said, “You’re quite bossy for someone in the back of a police car.” He pushed a button, and the boys heard a click as the doors locked. Wyatt gave a pull on the door handle. It didn’t budge. Duh, he thought, I’m in a police cruiser. Of course he could lock us in.

  The fields of Illinois slowly disappeared behind them as empty buildings passed by. Few were illuminated, most of them were darker than the night around them. The few he could see from the road looked decrepit. The gated communities they drove by had only security booths and elaborate gates visible. The houses themselves were far back from the road, hidden from the contamination of the outside world.

  “Prepare to turn left on Reagan drive in three kilometers,” the car instructed them.

  The phone buzzed in Wyatt’s pocket and decided to ignore it for the moment. He had decided that his friend would come in useful, but it wasn’t time yet. He turned to Ford, leaned in and asked quietly, “Do you have any ideas?” His friend looked distracted.

  Ford shook his head, looking frustrated, and whispered “I don’t, but I’m not sitting in this car.” He lowered his voice. “When he drops us off, we can get a cab or hitch, but I will not sit this out.”

  Lewis answered, “One, you’re locked in the car. Two, I’m two feet from you. Whisper all you like. Thanks for the heads-up, I’ll make sure I take your phones so you can’t order or pay for a cab.”

  “Jessica beat you to it, she had our phones taken by her police friends,” replied Ford.

  I got a new one, thought Wyatt. I wonder if the guy who gave it to me deactivated his accounts. For the five grand that the baseball cap guy got paid, he can handle the cost of a cab ride or two. He didn’t think that would be necessary though. He fully expected to be at the center with Lewis, whether the football playing officer liked it or not.

  They passed several large warehouses, automated trucks pulling in and out in an orderly fashion. This area was better taken care of and patrolled as well, Wyatt noted, seeing at least two police cars as they entered the city. Wyatt saw an officer in one wave to Lewis, and neither car slowed down nor came after them. “Looks like Golde hasn’t put us in the system,” said Lewis, “Scanner would have tagged our license if he had.”

  “Perhaps it doesn’t work on police plates,” suggested Wyatt.

  “Might not, never tried to tag a police car, but still…” replied Lewis.

  The car interrupted the discussion, “Your destination is on the right.” His time to ponder the situation was over, so Wyatt decided that he would continue. He wouldn’t stand on the sidelines anymore; he was going to take control.

  Lewis slowed to a stop, got out and ran to the gate without a word to his two charges.

  When Lewis left the car, Wyatt took out his phone and unlocked it.

  Ford whispered. “Where’d you get the phone?”

  “I picked it up along the way.” He groped in his other pocket for the buds he carried with him and put them on. There was a small beep as they activated from the heat of his ears and connected automatically to the closest phone.

  He started to text when it rang, all zero’s displayed as the incoming number. He thought about what he wanted to do with the conversation. He decided to go on the offensive and answered the call with, “Tell me your name.”

  A voice, young and male, came through immediately, “I’m going to open the car doors and give you the code for the entrance. Make sure you go in with Officer Stanhope.”

  Wyatt stood his ground. “No,” he said, his voice picked up by the wireless buds. “We’re staying here. Tell me your name.”

  “You have to go in, Jessica is in danger,” was the reply.

  “You heard me, I won’t. Where did you go to school?” Wyatt asked, switching tack. “Tell me who you are and what your game is or I go nowhere. I’m nobody’s plaything.”

  “I just want to help you, Wyatt.”

  “Bullshit. What’s your last name?”

  “Wyatt, you need to go in with Lewis. Jessica is in danger.”

  “Who are you?” Wyatt repeated.

  “I can’t say. I’m nobody. You don’t know me.”

  “What is your name?” asked Wyatt. He needed to speed this up, he thought, when he saw Lewis had stepped away from the gate. “Tell me now or I destroy the phone and we stay in the car.”

  Ford could only hear one side of the conversation but he immediately protested, “We have to go in, we can’t stay out here.”

  The voice on the phone replied, “My name is Joe.”

  “Joe who? Quickly now!” said Wyatt. “What is your father’s last name?”

  “I’m just Joe.”

  “Answer my question or I hang up,” said Wyatt.

  “Noriega.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I can’t lie,” replied Joe.

  Wyatt paused for a moment and said, “Why do you want me in there, Joe? Why have you put me in this situation?” asked Wyatt.

  Ford grabbed him and said, “What’s going on?”

  He didn’t offer his friend any explanation. I haven’t learned enough yet, he thought. And, buddy, truth be told, I don’t trust you anymore. You’re acting weird. Being my best friend is great, but it doesn’t give you a free pass.

  Joe said, “I’m housebound. I needed someone to help me.”

  “You don’t know me, why choose me?” said Wyatt,

  “I know you. You’ve just never noticed me. And I know that you care for Jessica and will do the right thing.”


  Wyatt thought about that. Even now, when he wanted to strangle her, shoot her or drown her in a shallow bathtub, he still wanted Jessica. How did Joe know this? He flipped through the people at school who were disabled or were often housebound. There was that kid from chess club, computer genius who’d gone home for some reason that had never been well explained.

  Once again, his time to think was cut short as Lewis jogged back to the car. “Wait until he’s back and then open the gate,” he said. Joe didn’t reply.

  Lewis got back in the car and said, “I don’t have access. Police and fire are supposed to be able to open gates like this, but my car doesn’t have the right codes. We need…” he trailed off as the gate silently swung open.

  “Go,” said Wyatt. “Drive through.”

  “I can’t bring you with me,” Lewis said.

  “We’re still locked in the back. Go before it closes.”

  Lewis paused for a moment and put then the car in gear. He drove through the gate, parked and opened his door with a terse, “I’ll be back soon.” He got out, ran to the front doors and yanked on the two handles, but neither door moved.

  Wyatt figured it was time. Joe had showed he had hacker skills and was ready to use them. Why is a question for later, he thought. “Open the doors to the car, Joe,” he said.

  The locks clicked open and Wyatt got out just as Lewis returned to the car. The officer said, “What the…?”

  “Lewis,” said Wyatt, “You can’t do this without us. I can get us in. You can take the lead, and we’ll back off when we get to Jessica and Hannah, but I’m going in, with or without you.”

  Lewis put a hand on Wyatt’s chest as he attempted to brush by. Both were big men, but Lewis had a clear physical advantage. It didn’t matter, this wasn’t about strength. Not physical strength at least.

  “Lewis, if you don’t arrest her soon, more people will likely die. Having her will be the only leverage you’ll have against her father. With her, you can go to the FBI. Ford and I will corroborate your story and you ours. We need the girls, and we need to get to them before Golde catches up with us.”

 

‹ Prev