Sensing the walls closing in and his time becoming shorter, he crouched as low as possible. Maybe, just maybe, the pursuer would pass by without checking inside. He struggled to control the strain in his breaths, which came shallower and more rapid than normal. He was on the verge of hyperventilating.
The footsteps were only a few feet away now. He clamped his hand over his mouth, stifling his breathing to block the rasp escaping his lips. The thud of his heart against his ribcage was deafening to his ears. He hoped his pursuer couldn’t hear it through the bin.
As the footsteps drew nearer, they paused outside the dumpster. Every muscle in his body stood tense, ready to spring if need be, but it appeared Lady Luck was with him. After a few seconds of silence, the footsteps resumed, headed away from the dumpster.
At that moment the worst case scenario came true. A sudden high-pitched beep emanated from his pocket. His phone! He’d left it off vibrate.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The footsteps outside froze, as chaos inside the dumpster raged. He groped at his pant leg, trying to locate the phone and shut it off.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The footsteps began again, this time coming toward the dumpster. Where was that phone?? Two thuds shook the lid and a small crack of light appeared above him, sending him into full-fledged panic mode.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
As the lid lifted, a flood of bright light swept over him and drowned out his vision in a sea of white. The light enveloped him and awoke.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Will was drenched, lying in the same hospital bed he’d inhabited since yesterday morning. The electrocardiogram monitor at his bedside registered his heart rate, racing at an elevated level. Every time he fell asleep, the same nightmare plagued him and woke him in a cold sweat less than an hour later. The drugs from that cute nurse coursed through his veins, but were having minimal effect.
His entire body ached. The fall had broken his left arm and given him a moderate concussion. Numerous bruises and lacerations covered his frame. His body responded to the trauma with inflammation and swelling in his joints, making it torture to even attempt movement. The nurse told him he was lucky to be alive after some elderly couple discovered him and called 9-1-1, but this sure didn’t feel like luck.
As he drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain of his wounds kept his mind occupied as he struggled to remember. And as the initial dose of narcotics wore off, his memory slowly but surely returned. He couldn’t recall everything yet, but he remembered enough.
Artie’s God had kept him alive and given him a second chance. He’d not asked for one and wasn’t even positive he wanted one, but he was kept alive for a purpose; he presumed it was to make things right.
The pain was overwhelming and he still struggled to bear the thought of continuing to live like this, but he’d been dealt a second hand. He saw now that others had sacrificed their lives to save him and give him a second opportunity at life, the opportunity to leave this hospital and go down swinging. He was determined to take it.
***
Escaping the hospital room was the easy part, at least once he figured out how to extricate himself from all of those tubes and wires. It wasn’t as easy as the movies made it look. The actors always just yanked them out, but when he tried that, pain exploded in his hands and arms. Instead, he was forced to work them out one by one. It took time, which increased the chances of capture, but the lack of searing pain caused by the sudden wrenching of tubes and needles was well worth the risk.
Even doing the job piecemeal, he needed only ten minutes to unhook himself, fumble into normal clothes and sneak into the hallway. Once there, things became a tad more difficult. Dodging doctors, nurses, and hospital security on the route to the stairwell was challenging as he struggled with the bulky arm cast restricting his movement.
The cast had made getting dressed difficult. In particular, the delicate clasp on Artie’s necklace gave him fits. Yet he didn’t want to leave it behind, and after a frustrated, desperate prayer, he finally succeeded in getting the wooden cross around his neck.
Somewhat to his surprise, he made it all the way to the front lobby before anyone recognized or even noticed him. There he crossed paths with the doctor who’d examined him for concussion symptoms.
“Will?” he sounded surprised to see him. “Will Ricketts?”
Will froze, positive he was about to be caught and carted back upstairs. He considered trying to make a break for it, but the pain in his legs reminded him running wasn’t possible. Instead, he remained stationary and let the doctor approach him.
“Will! Looking good today.”
“Yes, sir. Feeling much better,” he fought to keep his voice from wavering and exposing his frayed nerves. He forced a smile, hoping it would be enough to mask the nerves.
“Weren’t you supposed to be around another few days?” The doctor’s voice was inquisitive, but sounded innocent. He was just making conversation.
Will glanced around. “Umm…yeah. I was…but…I was feeling much better.” It was a weak excuse, but he hoped the doctor would buy it anyway. He tried to steady his upper lip, which had taken to quivering, and look confident.
A confused look came across the doctor’s face. “Hmm…I instructed them to call me for a final consultation on that head of yours before letting you go.” He reached over for a phone. “I’ll take it up with the guys upstairs.”
“No, no, no.” Will scrambled to find an explanation. He couldn’t let that phone call go through, not while he stood there. “One of the other neurologists was next door with another patient, so he did the check,” he lied and immediately pictured Artie. What would his friend think of him lying like this? Still, he really didn’t have a choice.
“That makes sense.” The phone remained in the pocket and he seemed to accept Will’s explanation. “Was it Mitchell? He was up there this morning.”
Will sheepishly responded, “I-I don’t know. I don’t remember his name.”
“Probably was,” he mused. The doctor tapped Will on the good shoulder. “Well, glad it worked out. Make sure you come straight in if any complications arise. Enjoy the parade if you get a chance, but take it easy. You don’t want to overdo it.”
“I will.” Will stayed frozen as the doctor walked away, only daring to move when the man disappeared around a corner. It wouldn’t be long before they discovered his deception. Seconds later, Will stepped outside into the sunshine. He was free.
Off to his left, the road led to his house, but as much as he would appreciate a return home, vengeance burned in his heart. He wasn’t ready to go home yet. To the right lay downtown and the anniversary celebration.
His plan of retribution, though required he head back to Booth’s house, on the opposite side of town, to look for clues. He’d have to pass his way through downtown to get there. Crowds of people packed the streets there. He turned toward them, knowing if someone from the hospital, or even Lynch again, came looking for him, his best bet was to get lost in the crowd.
He glanced over his shoulder at the revolving door to the hospital once more. No followers. He turned to face downtown. He took a deep breath and muttered under his breath, “Okay, William. Let’s do this.”
Chapter 33
As the sun peeked over the horizon, people began to line the street, fighting to score that prime viewing spot for the parade. By nine, two minor skirmishes erupted that required local security attention, both over stolen seats. By ten, the sidewalks were impassable along the entire two mile route, packed with folding chairs, strollers, umbrellas, and thousands of revelers. Today was the biggest celebration this little town had ever hosted, and no one wanted to miss it.
The parade got under way a few minutes past ten. Nearly everyone in town was either in the parade or as close to front and center to the route as they could manage. One of those who wasn’t stood a mile away, on a hill that rose gently from downtown. From this vantage point, he could keep an eye on
the proceedings as the floats weaved its way between buildings. More importantly, he lurked near a side gate to the building where the most powerful men and women in town did business.
To his left, and a step behind him, stood Nichols. Both dressed touristy, to blend in with the many out-of-towners. A hundred yards further waited Roth, columns hiding her from view of the capitol building. Nichols and Roth waited on his signal to act. Faye planned to meet them later with that pesky agent, Randal. He’d like to use her services sooner, but they needed to keep Randal under wraps until the last minute.
Lynch waited down on the street, mingling with parade-goers and waiting for the right time to kick off their own version of festivities. At that point, others in the crowd, armed with powerful weaponry, would leap into action. He could spy Lynch, leaning against a brick wall just off the route. At the right moment, Lynch would raise one arm in a predetermined signal to both his boss and the other gunmen in the crowd. It was time to move.
He hated not having full control of the operation, especially since it was his operation, but he couldn’t risk going down there himself. Besides, he needed hands-on command at ground zero, the capitol.
It would take a few minutes to gain access to the building once the signal was given but the real magic wouldn’t happen until they were deep within the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the towering edifice. His spine tingled with anticipation, sensing the shadow from the monstrous building behind him. In less than an hour, he would be sitting on top of immense wealth. And it would be all his.
He frowned. Well, almost all his. He would share a portion with Nichols, Roth, and Faye. The others, Lynch among them, also expected a portion of the plunder, but a different destiny awaited them. The more piles of distributed money, the smaller each pile. He wanted to maximize his share.
His original plan included similar fates for the others, but he’d grown fond of the two women, and he could dupe Nichols into taking a share much less than what he deserved. He’d be useful to keep around for a while. In the crime business, you could always find a use for a burly, dimwitted thug.
No matter. He would work out precise details later. At present, he needed to concentrate on the task at hand. Any minute now, Lynch’s arm would rise out of the crowd and his wait would be over. The machine would be set into motion.
***
Spinning tires threw gravel pellets upward and outward in a high arc as Sloan peeled into the warehouse lot. No time for silence or secrecy now. His engine squealed as the wheels ground to a skidding halt. The three men piled out of the tiny auto and headed for the first building. Guns drawn, Sloan led the way, his hefty weight waddling faster than it had in years.
No words were spoken. None were needed.
Warehouse number one proved unfruitful, so they moved to the next. One by one, they moved between the warehouses. Not until they reached the fourth building did they spot it. The rain made it easy to tell some stones had been displaced outside this door. The pebbled path arced in two parallel tracks curving away from the building and toward of the main road. A car had been here, and it left recently.
The door gave way to Krieger’s boot and the resulting echo of the powerful kick reverberated throughout the building. If their presence was unknown to this point, that invisibility was over now. Once inside, a bare room greeted them. Only an empty chair and small end table adorned the space. At the opposite end, a long gray hallway opened, lit by a few dim lamps fastened to the wall.
“Hello?” Sloan broke the collective silence of the three men and called out. “Dominic? Shannon?” Only a returning echo from the solemn stillness was there to answer.
A series of five doors on each side populated the hallway. The first few led to empty offices. Small desks and a few scraps of paper were all that remained. No sign of anyone having been there for a while. Krieger bent down to pick up one of the scraps.
It appeared to be the torn corner of an official document, ripped haphazardly from the rest of the page. In the dim light, he could make out a small logo of a bird, as well as a series of digits that might be part of an account number and the last part of a name. He read it out loud. “It looks like Babalola. First name’s torn away though.”
Dax didn’t say anything, but Sloan blurted, “Amadi Babalola!” Even in the low light, his face appeared grim. He glanced at each of the men with him before exiting the room to continue their search.
The rest of the rooms on the hallway were empty cells. Not even a lonely chair or scrap of paper. The final door led them to a dark stairwell which descended. Moving with care, they edged their way down the series of winding steps, about two stories’ worth before finding a door. They found themselves in yet another hallway. This passage mirrored the one they’d just cleared, but shorter with fewer rooms on each side.
They stood at one end and again called out, with Dax doing the honors. “Hello? Anyone here?” Nothing but the returning echo. They stood in silence. Then the stillness broke.
It was faint and barely perceptible. A voice. A weak male voice, calling out in response, crept out of one of closed doors on their left. Dominic!
Krieger reacted first, bolting forward. The lack of lock seemed strange, but they didn’t question it. He flung the door wide and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the room. The light from the faint lantern in the hallway outside struggled to penetrate the darkness inside. As Dax and Sloan joined him in the doorway, the figure of a man, hanging by chained wrists and ankles, became visible in the darkness. As the visibility improved, they saw the man secured to the far wall was not Dominic Randal.
“Ja—Ja—Ja—cob?” A voice croaked.
Sloan’s face wrinkled. “Amadi?”
Chapter 34
“I’m glad you were able to make it.”
The man sat, shrouded in a corner booth, a wide-brimmed fedora pulled low over his eyes. He looked short in stature, but the table created a mask, concealing most of his body behind it. He kept his head tilted downward, as though he didn’t want anyone to see his face.
“I was supposed to work tonight. I had to lie to my boss. Told him I was sick.”
“I apologize for such late notice. I couldn’t risk anyone finding out, so the later word went out, the better.” He coughed. “As for your lie, you’re going to have to get used to that. In this line of work, people will often do bad things for good reasons. It’s a necessary part of the business. Then again, I’m told that’s something you’re familiar with…”
“Sir? If I may?” His guest faltered, uneasy.
“Of course.”
“Why me? Why was I chosen?”
He chuckled softly. “Why you?” The man’s voice was high-pitched and strangely unsettling. “I’ve had a close eye on you for a while. Ever since the academy.”
“You-you have?”
“I have. Consistently in the top one percent of your class on written exams. High marks on physical exams and field tests. You possess all the qualifications I’m looking for.”
“But there were other students just as good as me…” A valid point. “A few even better.”
“Very true,” he acknowledged. “None of them possess your unique background though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I managed to get ahold of your psychological profile.” He ignored her question for the moment. “Willpower, determination, and the ability to remain focused in stressful situations were all off the charts. Ironically, you scored so high on your ability to focus that it raised a red flag in the system.”
He paused to sip from his drink. It looked like water, but the darkness of this back corner booth made it difficult to discern. “You possess a very focused intellect, almost single-minded. You can become so preoccupied and obsessed with the task at hand, you miss the larger picture.”
His guest said nothing and waited for him to continue.
“Take a seat. No need to remain standing.” He waited for his visitor to slide into the chair opposite him
before continuing. “Your profile held a few other anomalies as well, too complex to get into tonight, but it piqued my curiosity.”
He reached into a shoulder bag at his side. A manila folder deftly slid out and landed in the center of the table. With a flick of his wrist, he spun the folder 180 degrees to face away from himself and flipped it open. Photos and documents spilled out, revealing things never meant to see the light of day.
“How-how did you get these?” his guest sputtered.
“That doesn’t matter right now. Point is, I know about your past and I believe we can use this. You have nothing left to lose and I stand to gain a lot.”
“What do I get out of it?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be fully compensated.” He slid a small scrap of paper across the table with a figure scribbled across it. A very large figure. “What do you say?”
“I’m in.”
“Excellent. Now get out of here. You’ll be contacted soon with your orders.”
She pushed her chair back and gathered her things. As she was about to depart, the man in the booth called out in a soft voice, “Oh, and Shannon?”
She glanced at him. “Yes, Director?”
“These people you’ll be working for are highly dangerous. They may ask you to commit acts you’re uncomfortable with, but it will be important you do it. No hesitations. Gain their trust, but above all, be careful. There will be much at stake.”
She nodded and turned away, disappearing into the night as quickly as she’d appeared. Director Dax sat silently in the booth as he finished his drink. When the glass was empty, he tossed a few bills onto the table, stood and exited out the back.
***
Shannon started, jolted out of her reverie by the movement of her partner, trussed up in the passenger seat of her’91 Chevy Caprice. He was beginning to stir. She’d replayed this moment over and over in her head, but suddenly felt unprepared for the task. He’d want answers, some solid explanation. Director Dax had granted Dominic clearance to be filled in, but now that the moment had arrived, she didn’t know what to say.
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