Chokepoint

by Jill Williamson

  “Let’s go, Garmond.” Kimbal gripped my shoulder and steered me toward the door. “I’ll take you home.”

  The fresh air outside the club was like breathing for the first time. I hadn’t realized how hot and stuffy it had been in there. I glanced over my shoulder at the building, my limbs still trembling. The word “Blaze” glowed in blue glass letters above a heavy black door.

  Wait. I knew where this place was. It was just a few blocks from the mall.

  Kimbal stuffed me into the back of his squad car. I let my head fall back against the hard plastic seat and closed my eyes. The trembling was almost gone, but my heart still raced in my chest. I breathed slowly, trying to calm myself. I didn’t want to think about what had happened.

  Kimbal took me to the hospital to get checked out. The doctor said the injection had been liquid iVitrax, aka Rose Water, some fancy new street drug that rivaled Meth.

  I hadn’t overdosed on it, though, and the doctor let me go home that night.

  I couldn’t sleep. I kept replaying the different events over in my mind. It was all so confusing, so muddled in my head. No matter how scary it had been, I always came back to Sasquatch batting Tito aside like a shower curtain. That guy was awesome.

  They’d caught the bad guys. It was finally over.

  REPORT NUMBER: 9

  REPORT TITLE: I Get Used as Bait to Catch a Traitor

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Grandma Alice’s House, Pilot Point, California, USA

  DATE AND TIME: Sunday, November 23, 2:37 p.m.

  “It’s not over.” Prière said. “Somewhere, there is a leak.”

  Prière had come to see me Sunday afternoon. I’d thought he and I were going to do some intercession training, but instead he dropped this bomb. He’d also returned my iPhone. Guess who had it? Katie Lindley, the little thief.

  “A traitor in the Mission League?” I asked.

  “The two men who abducted you have implicated no one, but there are things that do not add up. And so I am here and no one else.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Someone you know is helping the other side. We have questioned everyone and have not yet determined the leak.”

  “Easy. It’s Nick.” Those guys were at his house, and Nick had sent me right to them.

  “I will share with you what I have discovered during the interrogations, but you must not make accusations or speak to anyone of what I say, or it could ruin our investigation. Not even Agent Kimbal or Mr. or Mrs. Stopplecamp. Me comprends-tu? Do you understand?”

  What? “Kimbal and the Stopplecamps traitors? There’s no way.”

  “S’il te plait, Spence. You must promise me, or we will relocate you immediately.”

  “Okay, okay. I promise.”

  “First of all, oui. Young Mr. Muren has made some dangerous friends. He claims to have met them at the dancing club Blaze, where we found you. He says he did not know why they wanted to meet you, but did not see any harm in arranging an introduction.”

  I snorted. “Sure he didn’t.”

  “As I told you, we tracked your cellular phone to Katie Lindley. She claims that Nick offered her five hundred American dollars to bring you to his home and take your phone.”

  Nice. So my homecoming date was a set-up. Wonderful. “Doesn’t that prove it was Nick? Five hundred dollars? Why would he do that?”

  “He said his friends claim that they knew you from a street gang and wanted to play a prank on you. He said it was their five hundred dollars he offered, not his.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “We are also questioning Isabel Rodriguez, who has spent much time with Mr. Muren and learned that he has been dating a girl who was meant for you.”

  “I’m sorry, what? I thought Isabel was dating Nick?”

  Prière shook his head. “Kimatra Patel came to Pilot Point about the time your afternoon basketball practices began. According to Isabel and her brother Lukas, she asked for you a few times outside Room 401. Then one day, Nick claimed to be you and went off with Kimatra.”

  “What?” I laughed. “That’s crazy. What did Nick say about that?”

  “If you must know, he said, ‘The girl was too beautiful for Garmond.’ ”

  What a tool. “So he stole my girl.” A girl who was meant to be some kind of trap, apparently. But still. I’d like to get a look at this mystery girl. “Why was Lukas there?”

  “Lukas has been following his sister of his own accord. He does not like Mr. Muren and did not care for Isabel’s assignment to get close to him.”

  “Assignment?” That explained why Isabel was “dating” Nick. “But I didn’t think we got real assignments in high school. And why does Lukas know about it?”

  “Occasionally a real assignment is given. Of all of you, we felt that Isabel was having the best odds of finding out what Nick was doing. Though her family is not very discrete, it seems.”

  “If you already suspect Nick, why not arrested him?” Put the sucker behind bars.

  “But for his dislike of you, we have no proof that he has done anything wrong. His explanations paint him as a mischievous and somewhat curious adolescent male but nothing more.”

  “Oh, come on.” But I had to agree. Seriously, why would Nick go that low? Help some freaks kidnap me? Sure, the guy was rebelling against being a pastor’s kid, and he was still ticked about my talking to the cops back in middle school, but help some creeps abduct me? I didn’t know…

  “So what now?” I asked. “And please say you’re not going to make me move.”

  “Not yet. What I would like is for you to enter the District League Combat Training event. It is the first weekend of December.”

  That was two weeks away. “Uh… I pretty much suck at LCT.”

  “That is not what’s important. I believe that this event could offer the very best méthode of catching the leak. And with so many agents present, I feel you will be very safe.”

  Oh. “So … I’m bait.”

  “It is sounding so negative when you are saying it in such a way, but, eh… oui.” Prière shrugged one shoulder and gave me an innocent smile. “Bait.”

  Fabulous.

  • • •

  “Let’s bridge and roll!”

  It was Monday night, and I was already tired from basketball practice. I flopped down to the mat with the other advanced LCT students and tried to keep up as Boss Schwarz barked out commands.

  “One!…Recover!…Two!…Recover!…Three! When someone has you in the mount position, you need to create leverage and space to allow yourself a chance to escape! Recover!…Four!…Recover!…One!…”

  Nice timing. That would have been good to know last Saturday night when Tito had sat on me.

  Boss Schwarz went on for fifteen minutes of bridge and roll, then switched to the knee-elbow escape drill.

  “We work hard to get strong to protect ourselves on the field,” Boss yelled in the middle of the knee-elbow drill. “But don’t trust in your own strength. Trust in God’s power over the power of human might. The same God who delivered David from Goliath can deliver us from every foe. Trust in his power alone.”

  After warm-ups, Boss ordered us to work on escape drills with a partner.

  Devin pushed me to the floor. “You first. Let’s do mount.”

  I lay on my back, but before Devin could take position, Jake elbowed him out of the way and plopped down on my gut.

  I groaned through his unexpected weight. “What are you doing?”

  “You and I need to chat.” Jake looked up at Devin and grinned a cheesy smile. “King, my man. Find another partner.”

  “Whatever.” Devin slouched away.

  Jake looked back to me, his jaw flexed, his brown eyes like bullets. He curled forward and locked onto my neck. “You going to try and escape, or are we just going to cuddle?”

  I grabbed Jake’s foot and did the bridge and roll. Jake flipped to his back on the mat with me on
top in a side mount.

  “Good. Good,” Jake said, squirming. “I see you got the hang of this jujitsu business.” Jake pulled my head down and fought for the knee-elbow leverage. I squeezed into him with all my strength, but Jake got by and slipped into the full guard position, locking his legs around my waist and still gripping my head.

  I was on my knees now. I managed to free my head, then grabbed Jake’s waistband and pushed, straightening my arms and popping to my feet.

  “Whoa!” Jake said. “What was that move?”

  “Superman.”

  Jake stood. “What you talking about Superman? I never learned no Superman.”

  “Beth taught me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jake snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. “My turn, Clark Kent. On your belly, like you’re flying.”

  I flopped onto the mat. Jake sat on me in the back mount position. “Now, I’d like to know why Superman would take the lovely Lois Lane to a party that she’s not allowed to attend, then abandon her. See, I think Superman isn’t so super, that’s what I think.”

  I grappled for Jake’s arm. “I apologized to Katie today at lunch.” Actually, I’d sarcastically apologized and thanked her for trying to get me killed. I’d made her cry, but it had been worth it, the sneaky little kissing, cell phone thief, anyway. “You told me to go with her and her friends. That’s where they went. But…” I grunted and managed to turn over onto my knees, stuck in Jake’s guard again.

  “But what?” Jake asked.

  “She got mad at me when I wanted to leave. Then I… I couldn’t find her. Why don’t you get on Nick’s case for throwing the party in the first place?” I so wanted to tell him that Nick had paid Katie five hundred buck to get me to that party, but Prière didn’t want me talking about it.

  Keeping secrets sucked. It was way easier to blab.

  I grabbed Jake’s waist for the Superman again, but he was wise to it now and pulled me into a headlock.

  He flicked my ear. “I’m on your case because you were responsible for my baby sister, and you took her into an environment where drugs and alcohol were present.”

  I popped to my feet, my head still stuck in Jake’s grip. “I tried to make her leave.”

  “You didn’t try hard enough, Superman.” Gravity worked, and Jake released my head. His own head dangled upside down, an inch above the mat. His legs still clutched my waist.

  I pushed down on Jake’s neck. He fought me for a good five seconds before he groaned and his legs burst free and hit the mat.

  “Look,” I said. “It’s not going to work out with Katie and me. We’re just friends, so you don’t have anything to worry about, okay?”

  “I’d better not, ’cause I’ll wipe the floor with you.” Jake scowled one last time before launching to his feet and skulking off to the locker room.

  I took a deep breath, then laughed out loud. I’d like to see Jake try and wipe the floor with me. Jake’s growl was far worse than his guard.

  • • •

  The next two weeks flew by. Despite Thanksgiving, Coach Van Buren held six practices a week. So did Boss Schwarz. And now that I had officially entered the LCT competition, I couldn’t really afford to shirk practices there. Basketball practices were child’s play compared to what Boss Schwarz put us through.

  I didn’t stop there. I spent every free hour I could in the school weight room or working the bags at the center. If I couldn’t do either, I’d do my sit-ups, push-ups, squats, and body conditioning at home. I didn’t want to be weak if someone came after me again. And I also didn’t want to humiliate myself at LCT District, even if it was a sham. But most of all, I needed to make this work. Because if they didn’t figure out who the leak was at LCT District, I’d have to move. And I couldn’t let that happen.

  • • •

  On Friday, December 5, Kimbal drove me to a private athletic facility in Westwood where the Los Angeles District League Combat Training tournament was being held. The place had three gyms, two pools, and a bunch of other stuff like tennis and racquetball courts, exercise machines, and weight training rooms.

  I found the registration table and got in the A-M line. They gave me a lanyard with my name and hometown on one side and a list of competition times on the back.

  “Let me see,” Kimbal said, before I got a chance to read the thing myself. “You’re in Gym One in forty minutes, ring four.”

  I snatched the lanyard back and put it over my head as Kimbal dragged me to Gym One.

  “You earn points in three areas: submission, defense, and combat,” Kimbal said.

  “I know.”

  “They award medals in each area and in overall achievement.”

  “Yeah, I know. Boss Schwarz told me.”

  “Today is just the prelims. If you make the top twenty-five in any category, you’ll compete in the finals tomorrow. Oh, and make sure you listen to the announcements. Sometimes there’s a change and they page you. If you hear your name, come to the registration table. Let’s get you there so you can stretch and I can scan the crowd.”

  “Okay.” The way Kimbal was going on and on, you’d think he was competing and not me. It was hard for me not to scan the crowd too, though I didn’t really know who I was looking for. If there was a traitor, he or she might be a face I recognized and trusted, right?

  Gym one had eight rings, which were square sections of blue mats with a red number in the middle. Each ring had a table where three judges sat. Bleachers lined the long sides of the gym. Kimbal and I claimed a spot in the center. I took off my shoes. My uniform consisted of a black rash guard short sleeved shirt, white and black knee-length MMA fight shorts, open-finger gloves, a mouth guard, and a protective cup. Bare feet.

  I watched two guys fight in ring one. The guy in red had the guy in blue in back control with both arms trapped. Too bad for blue.

  I couldn’t believe I’d agreed to this. I so didn’t feel qualified to fight in a tournament.

  The first familiar face I saw was Isaac Schwarz, Boss Schwarz’s son and the guy who’d been assigned to keep an eye on me in Moscow. He was refereeing the match at ring four, wearing the same black pants, polo, and latex gloves the other refs wore. Isaac used to wear T-shirts, shorts, and flip flops, and his shaggy hair had always hung past his eyes. It was weird to see him in all black with a buzz cut.

  When his match ended, he came over to where I was stretching on the floor.

  “Look at you, my little apprentice. Making district. I’m so proud.”

  If he only knew. “Nice hair.”

  “Yeah… everybody gets the buzz at Mount Awful.”

  “What’s with the gloves?”

  Isaac peeled them off and tossed them in a trash can by the judges’ table. “That’s so I don’t have to touch your nasty blood and sweat when I pull your opponent off you.”

  Swell.

  Another ref passed by and Isaac grabbed his arm. “Tony, Meet Spencer Garmond. Spencer, Tony is one of Beth’s big brothers. He used to be in Alpha team when he was at Pilot Point.”

  “Hey,” Tony grunted more than said. He was a brick of a soldier with the buzz cut to prove it.

  “This is Moscow,” Isaac told Tony.

  “Oh…” Tony’s mug shot expression morphed into a wide smile. “I heard about you.”

  Moscow? Isaac must have been telling stories about my brainless exploits. “Good or bad?”

  “In Special Forces, guys get nicknames for cities where they dominated,” Isaac said. “Sort of an MVP of a mission.”

  “And I dominated Moscow?” More like the other way around. It had been my fault Anya had been able to hack into the League files.

  “It’s a joke,” Isaac said. “Sort of.”

  “Schwarz just likes telling how you jumped off that building.”

  I hadn’t jumped. I’d fallen. But I didn’t feel the need to clarify. It felt good to have a guy like Tony look at me like I was some sort of force to be reckoned with.

  Boss Sch
warz showed up and led me to the on deck waiting area. My chat with Isaac and Tony had pumped me up. I was feeling optimistic. Until I saw Beth throw her opponent in ring six. Ouch. I hoped I wouldn’t have to fight her in front of an audience.

  Boss reminded me of the scoring and rules. Each match consisted of three rounds. The first round was five minutes, and the second two rounds lasted two minutes each. Like Kimbal had said, the judges awarded points based on submission, defense, and combat, but it was more complicated than that. Points accumulated for clinch holds, mounts, strikes, blocks, throws, takedowns, and submissions. The most points at the end of all three rounds won the match. In the event of a tie, the judges took into consideration aggressiveness and weight. Penalty points were docked for all kinds of nastiness including eye gouging, illegal strikes, cursing, groin strikes, head butts, hair pulling, and disobeying the ref.

  My first match was against a guy named Jones. Isaac called our last names and we walked out to the center of the mat. Isaac checked our gear to make sure we were legal and safe.

  “Shake,” Isaac said.

  We shook.

  Isaac positioned us so that we were facing each other about two yards apart. “Okay, boys,” Isaac said. “No wedgies, biting, noogies, hair-pulling, slapping, or wet willies. I want a clean and fair fight. You ready?” He looked at each of us.

  I nodded. So did Jones.

  Isaac pointed to the judges table, nodded, then clapped his hands. “Go.”

  Jones was shorter than me, and scrappy. He came at me fast, but all his strikes were low three, four, and fives. He liked to kick, but couldn’t get his leg high enough to do much damage. I managed to pin him, but he slipped easily out of my ape arms and got off a kick to my back before I could stand.

  But I landed plenty of hits, and when the first five minutes ended, I was pleased to see I was ahead eleven to seven.

  The next two rounds went by in a flash. We barely had time to do anything before each two-minute round ended. I won the match eighteen to twelve.

  Sa-weet!

  I won my second match too, but my third opponent, a guy named Kolmorgen, got me on clinch holds. I couldn’t get him off me. The guy was like a spider’s web. And all those holds added up quickly. I wondered what Beth would do to beat him.