No Refuge

by Richard Bard

  “The top-floor lights are on,” Strawberry said as we came abreast of the building.

  Deondre said, “Yeah, there’s movement up there. I’m going to pull—”

  “You’re wasting time!” I said. “It’s not the right one and we don’t have enough time to check every possible building.”

  “How are you so damn sure?” Deondre asked.

  “Just speed up and get back on the other street. And no slowing at intersections. Go fast. I’ll explain on the way.”

  Deondre spun the bike around. He turned back up the main street, speeding past Jazz, and I cringed when she had to gun the loud motor of her dirt bike to catch up. But at this point, we had to throw stealth into the wind.

  “So explain already,” Deondre said as we raced past buildings.

  “I’m hoping my dad will sense when we get closer. He should feel the energy from the mini. I’ll see his reaction on the live feed and we’ll use that to home in on him.”

  “What kind of harebrained scheme is that?” Deondre shouted.

  And that’s why I hadn’t told him sooner. It was a long shot but our only chance and there was no time to debate it. “Shut up and drive,” I said, a part of me shocked at the realization it was my first time ever telling someone to shut up. I excused it as a side effect of my old-age disease.

  “Trust him, Deondre,” Strawberry said. “If we’re going to save Ellie, we need to have faith.”

  The words had an instant effect on Deondre, and he squeezed his legs into me. “Sorry, Alex. I’m with you. Keep your eyes peeled. I’ll get you down every street in this neighborhood as fast as I can.”

  We sped through two more intersections, but my dad’s face remained impassive. I wished I could reach my thoughts into the tablet to let him know I was nearby, but with all the amazing things I could do with my brain, that wasn’t one of them.

  We were half a block from the T-intersection when my dad’s expression shifted. His eyes went distant. “I got something,” I said, trying to ignore the fact the timer was down to 4 minutes and 48 seconds.

  “Which way?” Deondre said, pulling to a stop at the T.

  “No way to tell without trying both directions. Take a right.”

  We turned, Jazz followed. Traffic was heavy on this four-lane road. It took only a few seconds for me to see it was the wrong way. My dad shook his head as if to clear it. His expression sagged, like he figured he’d imagined the brief contact with the mini’s energy.

  “Back the other way,” I said.

  Deondre swerved between cars to get in the left lane. He hesitated only a moment before revving the bike into a U-turn between oncoming traffic. Cars braked and horns blared as we sped off, Jazz and Simon right behind us.

  The effect on Dad was immediate. His head snapped up, his eyes narrowed, and even though he might’ve been furious with me for disobeying his order, he couldn’t keep one corner of his mouth from ticking up.

  Chapter 29

  JAKE FELT IT. He was sure of it this time.

  Dammit, Alex!

  The trace of energy from the mini was faint, but real. His son was bringing it to him, like it or not, so he needed to make the best of it. From a new perspective, he studied the trio in front of him—a haughty woman and two plainclothes dirty cops. They were standing behind a young tech at a computer, staring with glee at the monitor, already counting the dollars they expected to get from their unexpected prize zip-tied to the chair.

  They’d spoken freely in front of him, not caring that he had command of the language, and in the short time since he’d regained consciousness, he’d gleaned plenty. Murder, drugs, human trafficking—they’d done it all, settling on the latter as the lowest-risk way to make a lot of money. Selling kids. They were furious about the rescue conducted by none other than Alex and his group of friends. Jake had grinned at that, until the woman backhanded him and explained she and the others wouldn’t rest until they’d captured Alex.

  From what we’ve learned, he’ll bring an even higher price than you, she’d said. Yes, your boy was clever enough to interfere when we were off guard. But now we know who he is, what he’s worth, and that he is still in Bogota. We have eyes everywhere. We will find him, sell him, and kill his meddling friends.

  It was during that proclamation that Jake decided he would kill them. All of them. Some way. Somehow. They sold kids as sex slaves. Was there anything lower than that? And when they’d placed his son in their crosshairs, they’d signed their own death warrants. He glanced at the contents of his backpack, strewn in a corner of the room. They included his belt and Bowie knife.

  Jake had been alone when he first woke to find himself cinched to the chair, his back to a bare wall, a tripod and camera five feet in front of him. He’d tried to rip his arms loose from the zip ties strapping him to the armrests, shredding both wrists in the effort and splattering blood onto the plastic sheeting beneath him. It was no use. The heavy-grade ties wouldn’t give. The wounds on his wrists were serious but he was numb to the pain, just as he was numb to the bashing his body had taken when he fell three stories onto the hood of a car. Dumb luck. Though the entire backside of his body hurt like hell, he buried the pain deep beneath the mountain of remorse he felt over his inadequacies.

  He’d been fully fueled by the mini when he took those guards out on the rooftop, saving the boy who’d apparently been part of Alex’s rescue team. But after that, his chest had heaved from the effort and he’d had to take a knee. Then he’d allowed his focus to be distracted by the realization his son was on that rooftop with him, hiding in the shack. The joy he’d felt had consumed him. And that was when he’d been blindsided by the giant who’d tossed him off the roof.

  Jake never saw the man’s face, but the bastard had to have been tracking Jake, from where and for how long he didn’t know. But rather than simply killing Jake while he lay unconscious on the roof of the car, the man had delivered him to the lowlifes who held him now. The man had apparently wanted to subject Jake to a fate worse than a quick death, and that fate became crystal clear when Jake’s captors revealed the man had also provided them with detailed information about Alex and his hacking abilities.

  Information only a handful of people knew about.

  Yeah, they believed they’d won the lottery when that stranger dropped me into their laps to sell on the auction block.

  But this slave ain’t no kid.

  He sucked in a deep breath, trying to will the mini’s energy into his system.

  It was still too far away.

  ***

  I realized right away only one structure fit the bill. It was the only new building on the block, and the only one with windows for walls.

  “Slow down,” I said.

  Deondre eased off the throttle. As soon as we came abreast of the building, the expression on my dad’s face intensified on the video feed.

  “That’s got to be it, right?” Deondre asked.

  “It sure is.” I pointed to a thick copse of trees to our right. “We can hide over there.”

  “Got it,” Deondre said. “Hang on.” I held on tight as we jumped the curb onto the grass in the park. Jazz and Simon followed on the dirt bike, and half a minute later, the five of us were tucked beneath the branches of a large oak tree. Bushes kept us hidden from the street as we studied the building.

  “Now what?” Simon asked.

  Good question, I thought. I needed to get the mini into my dad’s hands, but I couldn’t go rushing in there without an idea of what we were up against. “We need intel,” I said, thinking out loud. I regretted the words immediately.

  “With only three and a half minutes left?” Jazz said, making my point.

  Deondre said, “We know they’re on the third floor. That’s the only one with the vertical blinds pulled closed.”

  Strawberry held her binoculars to her eyes. “Not all the way closed. There are slits I can see through, but from this angle all I can see is ceiling.”

  Jazz s
hifted nervously from one foot to the other. “We’ve got to do something. We’re running out of time.”

  “We don’t even know how many guards there are yet,” Simon said.

  “Give me those,” Deondre said. He took the binoculars from Strawberry, looped the strap around his neck, and started hauling himself up the tree. He clambered from one branch to another, his athletic movements silhouetted by the star-filled sky. He settled twenty feet above us and raised the binoculars.

  “The woman and the two cops,” he said in a loud whisper. “Plus that computer geek from the other house. No sign of Ellie.”

  “Great,” Simon said. “Three dudes and the witch from hell. Plus who knows how many guards downstairs. How are we supposed to get past all that?”

  There was a tug on my backpack, and the next thing I knew Jazz was rushing across traffic toward the building. Tires squealed, horns blared.

  “Hey!” Strawberry shouted.

  “What’s she doing?” Simon rose as if to run after Jazz.

  I grabbed his shirt and held him back as Jazz bolted across the street, trailing Strawberry’s scarf in one hand…

  And the mini in the other.

  ***

  The mini’s energy suddenly rushed closer, which meant Alex was closer. That scared the hell out of Jake. His son was headed into the lion’s den, and from what Jake had gathered, there were more guards downstairs. His mouth went dry, and he had to force himself to steady his breathing and appear calm. It was one thing to fight for his own life, it was another to fight for his child. Jake drew in the added energy. It heightened his senses and fueled his muscles, but it still wasn’t enough to help him break free. No, the kind of force he’d need to rip through the zip ties would require direct contact with the small pyramid. Even then, he wasn’t sure it would work. He’d never tried levering the mini’s power for that purpose.

  But the ties aren’t the weakest link in this puzzle. He shifted his weight on the chair, guarding his expression so the two cops and the woman—and the thousands, or tens of thousands, of people watching him on camera—wouldn’t realize something was up.

  He’d come a long way to get to this point, from the Canadian wetlands, to the safe house at Mt. Wilson, and finally pinpointing Alex’s location in Bogota from what he’d seen through his son’s eyes in the vision. It had been all he needed. The snapshot in his memory had revealed a small sign over the door of the corner building across the street from the window Alex and the two girls had been looking out. The sign had read: HOTEL CASA DEL REY.

  If it hadn’t been for the infuriating delays in Mexico City when his flight was canceled for mechanical issues, he’d have been on site early this afternoon. When he finally landed, he’d beelined to the hotel on an Uber from the Bogota airport. And he’d arrived none too soon.

  Fire crews had been fighting a rooftop blaze on the building next to the hotel, and a deep pocket of smoke was spewing from the alley in between. The streets were packed with onlookers, many of them milling around a white van that appeared to have just offloaded a number of frightened kids. Three police vehicles had pulled up, and uniformed officers spilled out and began managing the crowd. Two of them headed his way, so he’d averted his gaze and edged into the shadows.

  What had happened next put him on high alert—he first saw the woman who now held him captive. She’d been looking up at the hostel across the street, and when he followed her gaze, he’d seen Alex ducking from a third-floor window. Then he spotted the two girls he’d seen with Alex in the vision; they were racing with a black teenage boy into the hostel. The woman saw them, too, and her face had twisted in barely controlled rage. She and several men peeled from the crowd and disappeared down a side street. Jake had cut down an alley in the opposite direction, circled the block, and headed back toward the hostel. Whatever was happening there, he would pull Alex from it.

  But he’d been too late. The woman and her armed gang were already inside the hostel, running up the stairs. “¡Al techo!” one of them had shouted. To the roof. Jake had made for the fire escape to head them off.

  Everything had pretty much gone downhill from there.

  A shout echoed outside the office door, bringing his thoughts back to the present. He heard heavy footfalls rushing up a staircase. The cops unholstered their weapons. The woman sneered and held her ground.

  A guard rushed in. “¡Es la hermana de la chica!” he said. “¡Está aqui!” It’s the girl’s sister. She’s here.

  A minute later they brought her in. The girl grimaced under the tight grasp of the two guards who pulled her into the office, the guards steering clear of Jake to avoid being seen on camera. The girl took in the scene, her frightened eyes lingering on him. He recognized her immediately from his vision. She looked to be twelve or thirteen years old, with long, dark hair that tumbled down her back in a disheveled heap. She wore a colorful scarf tied around her neck, and the white party dress she wore was soiled and torn.

  And somewhere beneath it all was the mini.

  Jake sucked in its energy like a drowning man drawing a life-saving breath. His muscles twitched, his skin prickled, and his eyes narrowed on the woman. He could probably drop her right now, blasting her with a charge from his mind. But then what? He couldn’t get them all, not without the mini in hand, and not while he was still tied to his chair. He remembered the toll it had taken after he tapped into it to save the boy from the bear cave, and then again when he’d taken out the three guards on the rooftop earlier today. Something had been shifting in the relationship between him and the alien artifact ever since the visions began. Pulling me, Alex, and the mini toward the jungles of Brazil. It was unyielding and he didn’t understand it, but he accepted that he needed to comply. Or else. The energy bond between him and the artifact was waning, and it inflicted a greater cost on him with each use. So when he made his move, it had to be quick and devastating.

  He waited.

  “What an interesting surprise,” the woman said as the girl was presented to her. “Welcome to the party.”

  The girl jutted her jaw in defiance, but her lip quivered. “Let me go,” she demanded.

  The woman crossed her arms and regarded her with an amused expression. “Why not? You’re not going anywhere. Not with your sister locked up downstairs.” She nodded to the guards. They released the girl and took up station at the door. The larger of the guards had thick arms, a barrel chest, and the shoulders of a wrestler. He gave Jake a smile, like a cat who’d found a rodent to play with.

  The girl straightened and rubbed her reddened wrists. Jake tried to ascertain where she’d hidden the mini. He could feel it but couldn’t spot the telltale bulge in the folds of her fluffy dress. She returned the woman’s gaze and said, “I’m here to make a trade.”

  The cops chuckled.

  The woman sniffed. “A trade? What, you for your sister? Now that we have you both?” Her nasty cackle stoked the fire in Jake’s gut. The cops, the tech, and the guards joined in the laughter, until finally the woman smacked her palm on the desk and said, “The only trades you and your whore sister will be making will be sexual favors for the highest bidder who will soon own the pair of you.” She curled her lip. “You are a stupid little girl, and—”

  “I’m not trading for my sister,” the girl spat. She shook a finger at Jake. “I’m trading for his fool son!”

  Jake gulped. He hoped like hell this was part of a ruse and not a betrayal.

  “That’s right,” the girl said. “His son, the Global Terrorist’s devil child who can hack into any network in the world. You think you’ll get a pretty penny from selling the father? Hah! Governments will pay ten times that for the son.”

  The lieutenant stepped forward. “You will tell us where he is. Now.”

  It was the girl’s turn to cross her arms. “No. Now you will bring my sister here.”

  “Do you forget who I am, child?” the cop asked.

  She stared daggers at him. “You’re the officer of t
he law who murdered my parents, and who sells children as slaves. That’s who you are. There is a special place in hell reserved for you.”

  Garcia stepped forward, raising his hand to strike her, but the woman beat him to it with a backhand that sent the girl sprawling. Jake sucked air through clenched teeth, forcing himself to remain impassive. But when the woman reared her foot back to kick the girl, he couldn’t resist releasing a measured shot of energy into the woman’s forehead. She staggered, pressing her palms to her temples.

  Jake looked at his feet, blinking back a sudden wave of lethargy. He willed himself back to an even keel, angry that such a small release of the mini’s energy took a toll. It had been a foolish risk, and he prayed no one in the room wised up to what he did.

  When he looked up, the tech was staring at him.

  The tech’s eyes narrowed. After a long moment, he turned toward the woman and opened his mouth. But the sight of the woman made him hesitate. Her eyes were squeezed shut as if she was trying to force the pain from her head.

  While everyone watched her, the girl pushed to her feet and wiped her bloody lip. “Hit me all you want, bitch! But I’m not telling you a damn thing until I see my sister.”

  The woman blinked several times, her face crimson. She clenched her fists as she regarded the girl, and Jake could see it was all she could do to keep from pummeling her. Something stopped her, though, and Jake guessed it was greed. Finally she nodded at the smaller guard. “Bring the sister.”

  The man disappeared out the door. His partner crossed his big arms and sniffed at Jake.

  The tech found his voice. “Señora—”

  She held her palm up. “Pause the auction,” she said in Spanish.

  “But—”

  “Immediately,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the screen. “The countdown is almost over. Explain to the bidders there will be a short delay, but that it will be well worth the wait.”

  The tech got to work. The woman walked over and switched off the camera

  ***

  “We lost video,” I whispered to Deondre, who was still in the tree. He’d been keeping us posted on what was happening in the room, and my skin still prickled at the news the woman had smacked Jazz.