No Fortunate Son: A Pike Logan Thriller

by Brad Taylor

They exited, sprinting up the stairs. Getting to the top, they saw the Eye in the distance, on a square of land full of musicians and street performers.

  Breaking into a run, they entered the park. Jennifer said, “How are we going to get them to let me up?”

  They went past the huge arms holding the wheel in the air and Pike pulled out his weapon, Nung doing the same. He said, “Get ready to start climbing. Like you never have before.”

  * * *

  The capsule rose, moving almost in slow motion, disappointing Emily. She had expected something more. At least as much excitement as an elevator instead of a dripping, creeping rise. They continued on, and her mother tried to get her to stay in place, apologizing to the other people in the car as Emily raced to and fro.

  She leaned out, placing her face against the glass and staring into the skyline, mesmerized by the climb. She said, “It’s like being in an airplane. Up and up and up.”

  Alarmed, her mother said, “Don’t lean on the glass, honey. It’s not safe.”

  She reached out to take her daughter’s hand, and Emily scooted away, worming between two people on the other side of the car and placing her face against the glass again.

  Her mother apologized to the elderly couple, getting a smile in return. She grabbed Emily’s arm, this time sternly, and said, “Come with me.”

  Emily shouted, “Mommy! There’s a girl climbing up the wheel! Look!”

  Her mother leaned between the couple, searching for whatever her daughter had seen, and the wheel jerked to a halt, over two hundred feet above the ground.

  * * *

  Jennifer heard the shouting behind her and knew that Pike and Nung were putting themselves in serious danger. Soon enough, there would be a full-on presence of a tactical police unit, and they’d probably shoot first and ask questions later.

  She sprinted through the throng of people waiting to board, all screaming and ducking at the madmen with weapons. She reached the front and looked upward, seeing the latticework of cables and steel. The wheel continued to turn, even as the people waiting to board ran back and forth, shouting.

  She leapt up, climbing a ladder on the nearest capsule, and reached the roof. She hoisted herself onto a crossbeam, the pipe laced with steel studs for escaping the capsule in an emergency.

  She climbed it, going ever higher, the wheel still turning. She looked above and saw the hub, but there was no way to get to it. Nothing but spokes of metal, like a giant bicycle wheel, radiated out from the circumference.

  She didn’t have the strength to climb straight up them.

  But she could climb across.

  Seeing the path, she began using the framework of the capsules to get her higher. Get her parallel with the hub, so that she could shimmy across on the spoke instead of trying to climb up or down.

  She heard the people shouting in the capsules as she went across them, finding a rhythm in the symmetry of the construction. She climbed over four before the wheel stopped turning. She continued on, reaching the parallel position, two hundred feet in the air, the wind whipping her hair and threatening to throw her off.

  Standing on top of the capsule, the people inside its glass case dumbfounded, she leapt out, snatching the cable that led to the hub. She wrapped her legs around it and, hanging below, began to monkey-crawl forward. She cleared the circumference of the wheel and the wind hammered her, rocking her body back and forth.

  She clasped the cable with a death grip, cinching her legs tight, seeing the black water two hundred feet below, the gusts so great she was certain she’d fall. She considered returning to the capsule, getting to safety. She leaned back and saw the people inside staring at her. Wondering what on earth she was doing.

  A small child pressed her face against the glass, using her hands to block the glare. She was smiling, not understanding her fate. Jennifer saw the misplaced joy and realized she couldn’t return. She either reached the hub, or they all died.

  She started inching forward, slower, but making progress.

  * * *

  From inside the car Emily shouted in excitement, “Look, look! She’s coming to us!”

  Emily’s mother watched in growing trepidation. She turned to her husband and said, “Shouldn’t someone have stopped her? How is she up here?”

  The husband said, “I don’t know, but she’s not getting in.”

  He turned to the people in the car and said, “Don’t let her in. Whatever she’s doing, don’t let it be inside here.”

  There were murmurs of agreement, and two men went to the emergency exit, standing just inside the orange marker. A burly guy with an American accent said, “We got this. She’s not getting into our car.”

  Emily continued watching, fascinated. The woman came on, going over one capsule after another. Eventually, she reached hers and began climbing the outside. The men stood, waiting to do something, as if their presence alone dictated a response, but in truth, they were just as confused as everyone else in the car.

  The girl scampered up over their capsule like a squirrel, using the ladder on the outside. She reached the top and quit climbing. She leapt out, catching the cable running to the center of the wheel. She began sliding along it, moving toward the hub, and Emily said, “Mommy! Did you see that? Look at her!”

  The mother did so, seeing the woman slide on the cables, and was relieved that the psychopath hadn’t tried to enter her car. The immediate threat gone, she began to wonder what the climber was doing. And realized they were two hundred feet in the air.

  Her face pressed to the window, Emily said, “She’s amazing.”

  Emily had no idea why the woman was climbing, or how much danger they were in.

  But her mother did.

  * * *

  Jennifer reached the hub and lowered to the scaffolding on the outside, exhausted. She shook her hands to relieve the pain and keyed her radio. “I’m here. Stand by.”

  She heard, “We’re under arrest. They’re coming for you. Go.”

  She looked below, seeing a swarm of people, half with the reflective vests of police. She couldn’t pick out Pike or Nung.

  She scooted underneath the giant spindle and saw the explosives. She ran to the first one and pulled out the blasting cap, throwing it into the wind. She did the same to the second one, then began scuttling to the far end. To the two cables that held the entire contraption in space.

  She saw the timer on the first counting down. Five . . . four . . . three . . .

  She ripped out one blasting cap and ran, the final explosive charge going off and throwing her forward.

  She slammed into the steel of the hub, seeing stars and beginning to black out. She fought the darkness, now on her hands and knees, the scaffolding cutting her exposed skin. She shook her head to clear the cotton. The world came into focus bit by bit, and she felt the Eye shift. Leaning out into the river. Starting to fall.

  * * *

  Emily saw the blast and said, “Mommy! Fireworks! They’ve got fireworks here.” The mother felt the shift in the wheel and grabbed her daughter tight. She began praying.

  * * *

  Jennifer pulled herself upright and saw the damage. One cable gone. The others in place. She keyed her radio. “Pike, get them down. Now. I got three, but one went off. This thing might drop. Start turning the wheel.”

  She heard, “Jennifer, I’m under arrest. They’ve taken my phone but left in the earpiece. I can’t get to Blaine. All I have is the last setting. The radio. Call him. Get him to work some magic.”

  She did so, explaining what she had and where she was.

  He said, “Been working this since you left. Got a direct contact. Stand by.”

  She felt the hub shift again and said, “God damn it, tell them to start it up. Get the people off!”

  She heard nothing. Then the wheel began turning, much faster than before. She sagge
d back, resting her head on a flange. The metal hatch to the scaffold flew open, four men wearing body armor spilling out, all aiming a weapon at her.

  83

  Kylie saw the bearded man sit up tall, staring over the rail, and knew it was time. She had been running escape scenarios through her head for the last thirty minutes, knowing if she was to get free, it would be here, in the heart of the bar. Once she was in the hands of whoever was coming, she was done.

  Visibly nervous, Colin said, “That’s them. Don’t do anything stupid. They’re here to help you.”

  Four men appeared at the top of the stairs, the lead one looking like something out of a Grimm fairy tale. He had black hair slicked back and a pockmarked face; the menace slid off him, permeating the balcony.

  Colin stood, in a faltering voice saying, “Ratko. Hey. I’m here. Like I said I would be.”

  The man called Ratko surveyed the balcony, his men separating left and right. He approached and said, “Where are my diamonds?”

  Colin said, “Hey, wait, I had nothing to do with that. I told you. That’s Seamus all the way.”

  The balcony secure, Ratko looked at him, then hammered an uppercut into Colin’s stomach, dropping him to the floor. The violence exploded so fast Kylie could barely assimilate it. She scrambled to the end of the couch, holding her arms over her head, two men closing on her.

  Ratko waved a hand, and they drew back. Colin sat up, holding his stomach. Grimacing, he said, “What the hell are you doing? Here she is. All yours. I had nothing to do with Paris.”

  Ratko said, “Where are my diamonds? Where is the necklace?”

  Colin pulled himself up, looking at Ratko for permission to sit back in a chair. Seeing no violence, he did so. “I had nothing to do with Bulgari. Nothing. I don’t know where your diamonds are. I saw how bad this was going and called you. I want no part of it. That’s why I called.”

  Ratko sat down and said, “So what do you offer to save yourself? This girl?”

  He looked at Kylie, sizing her up, and she realized that death was not the worst of her fates. She tried to crawl farther from his gaze, stopped by the man above her.

  Colin said, “She’s not just a girl. She’s the fiancée of the American vice president’s son. She’s worth a great deal.”

  Ratko said, “I don’t do ransoms. I don’t take hostages. It only causes enemies that want to hunt.”

  Colin said, “I . . . I brought what I could. I can give you Seamus. I know where he is. He’s already gotten millions for her and her fiancé. He has cash. In Bitcoin.”

  “Where?”

  “Ireland. He’s planning to get more money. He’s bleeding the US dry. I swear, I can give him to you.”

  Ratko stared at him, the pure malevolence of the glare scaring Kylie. He nodded, then flicked his head to the guard next to her. He said, “I’ll take her. She might make some money in another country.”

  The man to her left grabbed her arm, forcing her to rise. He led her to the circular staircase and she heard Ratko say, “So, tell me more about Seamus. Tell me about the money he’s received.”

  She began circling the stairs, realizing that if she got in a vehicle with these savages, she was worse than dead. Her only chance of survival was escaping before she left the bar.

  * * *

  The men around me shouted and yelled, threatening me with all manner of violence, but I knew they wouldn’t do anything. They’d slapped me around a little bit, but with the number of cell phone cameras in play, I knew they would only let off a little steam. As long as I didn’t pose a threat.

  I hadn’t. Nung and I had cracked a couple of rounds in the air, causing massive panic, and letting Jennifer sprint through the crowd. As soon as she’d made it to the top of the first capsule, I’d raised my hands, telling Nung to do the same.

  Jennifer had made it to the top, the men screaming at me to tell them what she was doing. I yelled back the truth, holding my hands in the air. Eventually, they’d decided that I might not be lying and had stopped the wheel. Or maybe Blaine had gotten through. Either way, we’d waited at the bottom while Jennifer climbed. I’d gotten the call from her and heard the explosion, feeling my life ripped apart.

  I’d jumped out, trying to see what had happened, and I’d been tackled by about a platoon of guys. Sitting underneath, screaming at the top of my lungs, I couldn’t get them to let me go. I heard a groaning of metal. An inhuman, grating screech, and I knew the wheel was falling. With Jennifer on it.

  The men on top of me heard it as well, and we all stopped. I screamed again, “Get the wheel turning. Get them off it!”

  They shouted back and forth, and I saw the machinery start to work, capsule after capsule spilling out shrieking patrons. The wheel picked up speed, going about three times as fast as it normally did, the people literally jumping off, some tumbling to the ground.

  I was ripped to my feet, Nung beside me, and both of us hustled off to a panel van. I tried to jerk out of their hands, looking over my shoulder for Jennifer. We were slammed into the paddy wagon and cuffed to a bench. They’d searched me, taking my wallet, passport, phone, and weapon—but they’d left in my Bluetooth earpiece. And had placed all my items in the front seat of the van. Within range.

  I whispered, “Koko, Koko, status.”

  I heard nothing. I did it again, then heard, “Coming down now. I have weapons aimed at me.”

  I sagged back, staring at the ceiling of the van. Nung, his own Bluetooth in, nudged me, smiling. Because he was fucking crazy.

  He leaned in and said, “I was worried this wouldn’t work out. I like her.”

  Sitting in my chains, seeing the SWAT guys running about, I truly wondered if he wasn’t living in a dream world.

  Six minutes later, Jennifer was shoved in the back, wearing her own chains. I wanted to jump up and wrap her in my arms, but I was a commando. And I was shackled to the bench.

  She looked at me, worn-out and scared. I winked and said, “Saved the day again.”

  She shook her head and sagged back against the wall of the van.

  84

  Kylie followed the men down the stairs, seeing her window of escape close. They reached the bottom, one in front and one behind, and she knew she needed to do something. If she wanted to live, this was it.

  The floor had grown crowded in the hours since they’d entered, the entire area full of an eclectic mix of Saturday patrons, some in suits with neat haircuts and others sporting Mohawks and torn, raggedy clothes.

  They threaded their way by the bar and the ring-nose girl shouted, “You guys closing out?”

  The men around her kept walking. The barmaid shouted at them again. Kylie pulled the jacket of the guy in front, saying, “She’s talking to you.”

  He looked at her, then the barmaid.

  She held up a tab, waving it about, and said, “Are you guys closing out or what?”

  He said something to the man behind her, in a language Kylie didn’t understand, then walked to the bar. The man behind her followed with his eyes. She saw her chance break open, as fleeting as a star burning out in the night sky.

  She took off running.

  * * *

  The police slammed the panel van doors, and we started trundling to wherever we were going, two goons in the back giving me the stink-eye, like they were going to jump me. I suppose I should have felt apprehension. Or elation. But I felt neither. I’d just caused the compromise of the entire Taskforce, but I’d also saved hundreds of lives. In the end, neither mattered to me, because I’d sacrificed Kylie’s life to do both.

  I’d failed. Again.

  Jennifer was shackled next to me. She rubbed my thigh, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. I leaned back into the wall, ignoring her, and she followed suit, not giving up. I sighed and looked at her.

  She said, “We did good, r
ight?”

  I gave a tired grin and said, “Yeah. We did real good.”

  I saw it wasn’t a question, but a statement. She said, “Pike, we had to make a call. We had to.”

  I heard her words and felt ashamed. I’d just sat on the ground while she risked everything she had to save over eight hundred innocents. And she was now propping me up.

  I looked at her, trying to come up with some suitable commando team-leader crap. Something that would let her know how much I thought of her sacrifice. What came out surprised even me.

  “I . . . love you.”

  She snapped her face toward me, her mouth hanging open in shock. Our earpieces came alive, saving me from my mistake.

  “Pike, Pike, this is Retro, you there?”

  I glanced at the goons in the corner of the van and said, “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Blaine’s working the extraction and thinks he’ll get you guys out clean, but I’ve been doing some digging with the Taskforce. We interrogated Seamus after you left. He says the guy with Kylie is named Colin Butler. He lied about him being in Ireland. Colin Butler’s credit card was just used here in London. In Camden.”

  The words coursed through me like I’d just touched an electrical outlet, bolting me upright. The goons saw my movement, and I leaned back, closing my eyes. I said, “I need to get out of this wagon. Right fucking now.”

  “Pike, we can’t do that. We’ll get you out at the station.”

  “We don’t have the time for that. We lose this thread and she’s gone. Get me out.”

  “How?”

  “Put on Blaine.”

  There was a fumble of the earpiece, some static, then Blaine. “Pike, Retro’s told me what he found. We’ll start working it.”

  I said, “Call Kurt. Tell him. Then wreck this vehicle. I want out in the next five minutes.”

  “Pike . . . that’s not going to happen.”

  “You call Colonel Kurt Hale right fucking now. Tell him what you have. Ask him for guidance. Then stop this wagon.”