Storm Surge: A Fast Paced International Adventure Thriller (Storm Thriller Series Book 3)

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Storm Surge: A Fast Paced International Adventure Thriller (Storm Thriller Series Book 3) Page 12

by Steven Becker


  The grass below was deceptive. Thinking it would be soft, Saba landed awkwardly, ending up on her side. She looked across at Mako, who had landed on his feet. Embarrassed at her attempt, she snuck a glance over at Mako to see if he had noticed. Some other time she would have to figure out why his opinion mattered—not now. As they ran toward the short side of the field where another drop waited, Saba glanced back and saw Burga aiming her gun at them from the top of the wall.

  The only cover was the row of old columns, about four feet tall and nearly as wide at their bases. She followed Mako as he wove his way between them, alternating sides with each column. It looked like one of her old soccer drills, where the coach had placed cones that the players had to dribble the ball in and out of. It was effective, though, allowing only a brief section between columns where they were visible to Burga.

  Saba didn’t need to look back. Bullets ricocheted off the old stone around them. Burga had remained above. Just ahead was another drop that would bring them to the Temple of Apollo and the street. Without hesitating, Saba ran for it. One last look in the fading sunlight showed Burga struggling to climb down the wall.

  “Here we go,” she called to Mako, bracing herself. Together they dropped down to the Temple, ran through the ruins and found themselves on a road. It was not a public thoroughfare, just the perimeter loop around the site, but just beyond it, down a grassy embankment lay a wrought-iron fence and freedom.

  Scrambling down the slope of the last hill, Saba noticed that the streetlights had turned on. In a few minutes it would be dark and they could make an attempt at the fence without attracting attention. Looking back, she saw Burga. They didn’t have that long.

  “She’ll expect us to scale the fence. Why not follow this service road to an exit?” Mako gasped. He stopped for a second, pulling the paper that the Uber driver had given him from his pocket. Reaching for his phone, he called Lucia, and arranged a pickup.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I got a driver.”

  Once again Mako had simplified things.

  “Plan.” Saba started into an easy jog around the road. By the time they reached the gate, they saw it was closed.

  “Park closes at sunset,” the attendant said.

  “We got a little lost, sorry,” Saba replied, as he opened the gate.

  “Happens more than you’d think. That’s why I’m here.”

  They were on the sidewalk now, right by the gate where they had entered. To the right was the Arch of Constantine. Through the opening, Saba could see taxis passing by on the road. A second later, with a smile on his face, Lucia pulled up in his Uber.

  27

  Rome

  John exited the police station. It was after dark, and he scanned the sidewalk, knowing someone was waiting there. Someone he’d have to explain himself to. By using the State Department get-out-of-jail-free card, he would be required to give a statement. It was not a step he could afford. After calling Alicia, she had backdoored him into the State Department’s system, then called them to make sure they knew where he was held. Once past retirement age, every government official knew if you achieved that status you were somebody—not just a name in a computer. Someone would be here to meet him, someone he would prefer to avoid.

  A woman caught his eye, and he delayed for a second too long. Had it been a man, John would have looked right past him. Her short skirt was like a magnet that stopped his eyes.

  “John Storm?” she asked, walking quickly toward him.

  Evading her and getting caught would lead to worse circumstances than the jail he had just exited. “Yes. Thanks for taking care of all this.”

  “Faith Roberts. I have some questions.” She held out her hand.

  He bet she did. Instinctively, he guided her down the street and away from the security lights illuminating the police station. While they walked he was able to study her, and saw a resemblance.

  “Roberts?”

  “That’s right, Faith Roberts.”

  “Your dad work for the agency?”

  She turned to look at him, and John knew he was right.

  “Why, yes.”

  Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

  “Where’s he at these days? We worked together, but I was bad at staying in touch.” It was the best way he could think of to ask if his old friend was still alive.

  “Not keeping in touch is one of his specialties.” She paused.

  John suspected she was trying to decide whether to cross the line that separates business from an agent’s personal life. It was a decision that would affect how this conversation ended.

  “They’ve got a place outside Scottsdale. You know Dad, loves his golf. Now he’s out there every day.”

  John breathed a sigh of relief, both in how she answered the question and that his friend was still alive. At his age, attrition was starting to take a toll on his acquaintances. “How about coffee or a bite to eat? I had to beg for water in there.”

  “I suppose, but I’ll need you to answer some questions.”

  “Sure thing. It’ll be good to hear how your mom and dad are doing, as well.” John calculated that Rome was eight hours ahead of Arizona. In order to extricate himself from this mess, he would need his friend to vouch for him. John hoped he had an early tee time, because interrupting his golf game would be a bad way to accomplish that.

  28

  Trastevere District, Rome

  They hopped into Lucia’s car and he took off immediately. A glance back confirmed that Burga had reached the road. Mako had pulled Saba in beside him, not failing to notice the electricity that shot through him. There was some kind of connection there. If he could only sort out her allegiances maybe it could go somewhere. Mako felt that she knew it too; the question was, who would acknowledge it first?

  He had little to lose. She’d already drugged him and stolen the journal. Now allied because of a common enemy, staying close to her was the best way to retrieve the journal, and what better way to do that than have her share his bed?

  While he was still debating whether he should make the first move, he had pushed Saba down to avoid Burga seeing them. His hand slid under the short sleeve of her blouse. The placement of his hand on her arm was an intimate gesture—and she knew it too.

  Saba’s head turned towards him and their eyes met. There was something about sharing a life or death experience that brought people together. Their faces inched closer, but just as their lips were about to touch the car smashed into one of Rome’s famous potholes. Jostled to the side, Mako collected himself. The moment was over, but would not be forgotten.

  A question from Lucia brought Mako back to the present.

  “Destinazioni?” Lucia asked.

  Mako gave him a questioning look, deciding that, as a stereotypical Italian man, Lucia was trying despite their circumstance to flirt with Saba by excluding him from the conversation.

  “Aeroporto,” Saba responded.

  “Sicily, then?” Mako asked.

  “That’s where this is headed.”

  The island might have been where this was going, but it was not where everything started, at least for him. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you have the journal.”

  She leaned her face against the window. “About that.”

  Mako looked at her. Though her body had shifted away, her hand lay on the seat next to him. Usually working alone, covert operators had to depend on their own perceptions of reality. There was often no other way to assess a situation than by talking it through—to yourself. In these one-sided conversations, it was easy to twist that truth. Mako had had more than a few of these talks with himself, the latest being when he came to lying on hard concrete under a ratty blanket by the Tiber. At the time Saba had seemed an enemy after depriving him of the means to complete a valuable contract. But there were two sides to every operation. He’d been around long enough to understand the shifting alliances of the covert world. Now, he just had to convince her it was all ri
ght to to shift their alliances to include each other.

  Reaching for her hand, he hesitated. The almost-kiss had come about naturally. Taking her hand would be a premeditated act, and though it was almost trivial, as a step toward gaining her trust it was a major decision. Whether he was thinking clearly or not, Mako wanted her. He’d seen enough to know she was capable, intelligent, fun—if you could call a chase through Rome fun—and beautiful. She was also on the right side of the law.

  Just before he touched her, she turned and their eyes met again. It looked like she had made a decision. Moments like this are fleeting, and if he wanted her and the journal, he needed to make his move—now. Sliding his hand across the plastic-covered seat, his outstretched fingers reached towards hers, and he was relieved when they naturally interlaced with his. Their eyes remained locked on each other. She was speaking to him with her eyes, and he hoped they were speaking the same language. Leaning in, he needn’t have worried. She moved towards him, closing the space faster than he expected.

  No errant potholes interrupted this kiss.

  The kiss lingered as they melted into each other’s arms, oblivious to the outside world. Lucia was the one to break them up.

  “Excusé, qualcuno ti sta seguendo.”

  While Mako had understood the anglicized words for destination and airport, this phrase he didn’t understand. Before he asked, he saw Lucia’s eyes in the rearview mirror move to scan the road behind them. Saba had understood and was already looking through the back window, checking the cars behind them. No translation was necessary when Mako saw the barrel of a gun extend from a side window of a car several lengths back. Ready to return fire if necessary, he reached for his pistol and opened his window.

  “Don’t. Let’s try and lose her first” Saba said.

  “Persistent, though, isn’t she?” Mako had thought they were in the clear.

  “Her reputation is like a dog with a bone.”

  Mako had seen the woman exit Palatine Hill. He had hoped they’d had enough of a lead that they could escape unnoticed. A sudden gunshot told him otherwise.”

  “Now?”

  Saba was speaking urgently to the driver. She reached out and pulled Mako’s arm back in the car. “Too much chance for collateral damage. We can’t be like them.”

  Mako understood. He had been trained to evaluate life-threatening situations as well, and she was right. Pulling the gun back in, he woke up his ear fob and got Alicia’s attention, asking for help. She quickly understood their situation, and started rattling off street names that Mako could barely comprehend, forget about repeating out loud. Handing the earbud to Saba, he turned to check on their pursuer. Just as he faced the rear window it shattered, blowing glass all over the backseat. Lucia’s natural reaction was flight and he accelerated. Saba had been facing away from the window and took it in stride, rattling off directions in Italian. Mako brushed the broken glass off his face, feeling the stickiness of blood along with the tiny pieces.

  Moving the threat status to DEFCON 1, Mako pulled the pistol out, and using the headrest for support, aimed out the broken window. Cars were swerving to get out of the way, allowing the pursuer to close the gap, and Mako saw the woman just two cars behind. Her gun was not visible, giving Mako a brief reprieve to evaluate the situation.

  Killing Mako and Saba was still not a viable option for Burga. As much as she might want to, sealing their lips would also lose the journal forever. The shots had been fired to let her car get closer to theirs, and maybe even incapacitate it. She’d accomplished the first part.

  Burga’s driver, one of the men who had chased them earlier, was clearly visible, his face unflinching, intent on following them. As Mako heard Saba talking to Alicia he realized he had underestimated his opponent, who had called ahead to have her man and car waiting for her when she exited Palatine Hill.

  The darkened windows of the cars between Mako and Burga obscured her from his sight. Knowing the driver was in league with the woman and not an innocent civilian, Mako fixed his aim again. Alicia had chosen to try to evade their pursuit, sending them down surface streets instead of the highway. Without being in Rome, what looked clear on Alicia’s monitor didn’t indicate the frantic nature of transportation in the city. The driver directly behind their Uber saw Mako’s pistol and immediately swerved to his right, grazing the car in the adjacent lane.

  There was a dull thump as the lightweight metals collided. Fortunately for the drivers of the affected cars, there was a wide sidewalk, allowing them to pull off the street. If not for the sidewalk, the chase would be over. Instead, pedestrians scurried into storefronts to evade the oncoming vehicles, allowing Burga’s car to pull right behind their car.

  Saba ordered a sharp left into a narrow side street. With a squeal of tires, Lucia accelerated into the turn, knocking over a stack of trash cans in the process. Several were tossed to the side, and the rest were crushed as Burga’s driver slammed through the debris.

  Unable to lose the other car, Mako started to make a contingency plan. Glancing at Lucia’s eyes in the rearview mirror, he noticed the man was looking back more than ahead. That could only lead to disaster. With the gunshots, their adventure was over for their Uber driver.

  Mako needed to be ready. Older, low-rise buildings lined the crowded streets. Restaurants and cafes were the predominant feature of the neighborhood, which appeared more residential than the other parts of Rome they had been through. There were no ruins or tourist trappings here. It seemed like many neighborhoods Mako had been through in New York, Washington, D.C., and London. It had an old-world feeling, with telephone and cable wires slung between the buildings. It was a place where people lived their entire lives. Where you could be born several blocks from where you died.

  Small cafes with outside tables and markets with bins and crates encroaching on the sidewalks attracted Mako’s attention. They were the perfect obstacles to help lose a pursuer. In theory, Alicia’s tactic of using the tight maze of urban streets to lose Burga was correct. Now, with their pursuers directly behind their car, it played against them. One collision would have them in each other’s laps.

  Just as he thought it, brake lights flashed ahead, then the squeal of cars stopping suddenly, and finally a rider-less bicycle skidded across the street. Traffic stopped. When Mako looked back, he was staring directly into the barrel of Burga’s pistol. Pulling Saba toward him, he opened his car door and pulled her to the sidewalk. Leaving the door open as a shield, he reached into his pocket and threw a wad of bills on the seat. Lucia understood Mako’s intent and slowly drove away, allowing Mako and Saba cover as they made for the busy sidewalk.

  The vendors and waiters yelled what even Mako could interpret as flavorful curses as he and Saba crashed through the displays and tables. Saba wore the earbud—with Alicia talking—allowing Mako no choice but to follow her. Taking the first three turns available, they found themselves on an avenue with two lanes of traffic in each direction. The markets and restaurants were still present, but the wider sidewalks allowed Mako and Saba to break into a run.

  They stayed on the street, dodging cars as they crossed against the light at each intersection. Drivers slammed on their brakes to avoid them, leaning out their windows making stereotypical Italian hand gestures. Mako had heard somewhere that being flipped off with just one hand was a more casual gesture than being flipped off with two hands—which they saw what was flung at them as they danced through the cars. When Saba crossed the main street, again against traffic, they saw more hands.

  Another glance behind him revealed no pursuit. Mako had seen this show before, and kept pressing Saba from behind.

  “We need transportation,” he gasped. One of the drawbacks of the residential area was a noticeable lack of cabs. “The bus.”

  Just ahead a bus had pulled to the side of the street. The doors hissed open and a stream of workers exited. “The back doors. Right before they close,” Mako called ahead to Saba. She slowed just enough to time their m
ove, and as the last work-weary commuter exited, they slid aboard. Expecting some kind of reprisal, Mako dug into his pockets to pay the fare. Saba pulled his hand back. No one had noticed their entrance, and if they had, they didn’t seem to care. Glancing at the driver, Mako saw his focus was on the large side mirror, as he tried to find an opening in the traffic. Rumor had it that a good deal of public transportation in Italy was on the honor system of payment.

  Mako and Saba found a pair of seats at the back of the bus. After an interminable wait, the driver found his opening and pulled into traffic. Their heavy breathing was audible to anyone listening, but again, no one paid them any attention, as they waited for their heart rates too slow.

  This time their escape looked to be successful and, without a word spoken to Mako, Saba started talking to Alicia, squinting at the route map strategically placed between fragrance ads on the wall of the bus. Mako sat back and opened Google Maps. Punching in “airport,” he pressed the bus icon, and the screen populated with their route. He offered the phone to Saba, who at first, intent on studying the map on the bus, pushed it away. After a second, she must have realized what it was and accepted it, giving Mako a smile that reminded him of their kiss.

  “We need to make a stop first,” Saba said.

  29

  Rome

  “This has been very interesting, hearing about my dad and the good old days,” Faith said, her smile softening the barb. “But you’ve carefully avoided telling me why you were arrested and how your name mysteriously appeared on the State Department’s watch list.”

  John used the noisy restaurant as an excuse, feigning he didn’t hear, and sat back, sipping his wine. Faith was definitely the daughter of an agent. Trying to find a way to tell her that the information was probably above her pay grade, he asked instead what she did.

 

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