Rex Chase: A Novel

by Tim Wheat

  “She’s a very private girl, Angela that is, and when their mother died, she blamed Tricia. They, they…”

  Another coughing fit left the round man racked in violent convulsions. Ahiga put his hand on the professor’s shoulder. He had gotten enough information from him for now. George picked the sick doctor up in his arms, carried him into the cabin, and laid him down on the bed.

  “Get some rest doc. You’re gonna need it.”

  “Thank you son.”

  The Professor drifted to sleep in short order. George’s job was going to be easy now. All he needed to do was destroy the transmitter and that solved the problem. How hard could that be?

  *******************

  33.

  Hans smiled as he trailed behind the Packard. He could see that Chase had begun driving in a more normal fashion and most likely believed he had lost his pursuer. The truth was different, however. Something you learn early on in the spy game is how to be stealthy. Even though he was driving a three ton behemoth, the addition of more vehicles on the roads made it easy for him to blend in.

  He would take his time and wait for an opportunity to present itself. If Chase believed that he was in the clear, his guard would once again be relaxed, and that was when Hans could strike again.

  “Patience,” Hans spoke aloud to himself. “Be patient, Hans. You’ll get him.”

  *******************

  34.

  Chase had been checking his mirrors for miles while making numerous turns and double backs, and still he hadn’t seen the black Lincoln for almost twenty minutes. He must have lost his would be killer. Just to be certain, however, Chase intended to drive through the countryside, where he would be able to see vehicle lights for miles.

  He knew the roads in town well, as he had lived there his entire life, and could navigate them with his eyes closed. The countryside was a little different, however, for Chase. He had navigated the rural area before with a young lady, perhaps two, and would be able to find his way back with ease, but he wouldn’t know the course by heart. It was a mistake that he didn’t even know he was making.

  As he drove, Chase scanned the road and the vehicles behind him. Still there was no sign of the Lincoln. He contemplated heading to a local police station to report what had happened to him. The scene of the crime was certain to be crawling with police by now. He had seen a number of people outdoors when he tore down the street in the Packard, and the girl who had helped him stand could be a bit shaken up as well. Police had been in the neighborhood, too. Chase made up his mind. He would make certain he wasn’t still being followed out here, and then return to the scene. With any luck the police wouldn’t make too big of a problem out of him leaving in the first place and he was certain they wouldn’t be able to hold him accountable for what the maniac driving the black luxury vehicle had done. The girl would back up his story. Then his heart sank, and a lump formed in his throat as he spotted him.

  Six cars back, and maybe sixty yards, the black twelve cylinder vehicle was there, shadowing him. How had he gotten so close when Chase had been looking for him with such ardency? Chase’s next move was a mistake. He mashed the Six’s accelerator to the floor and started weaving his way through traffic.

  Vehicles honked their horns and angry motorists saluted him in the normal fashion for showing displeasure with another driver. Chase guided the Packard through the slower moving vehicles dodging left and right like a prize fighter dodging punches. The Packard’s six cylinder engine strained to move the vehicle at the speeds he was prodding it, but Chase kept his foot glued to the accelerator, using the clutch to regulate his speed instead of the brakes. Despite his best efforts, however, the Model K was still behind him and seemed to be gaining.

  Chase crested a hill and the light Packard Six flew through the air and came crashing to the ground, sending sparks flying in its wake. He had made it to the edge of town now, and traffic was no longer an obstacle. The Packard was in its element out here on the winding road. Its “Safe-T-Flex” front suspension and four-wheel hydraulic braking system made the road seem smooth as silk, even as he raced over it at speeds approaching one hundred miles per hour.

  He witnessed the Model K crest the same hill in his mirrors, appearing to be glued to the ground; it was moving in on him. The V12 engine, developing 110 horsepower and coupled to a three speed sliding gear transmission, was just too much car for the Packard to fend off. The huge black vehicle approached and glued itself to the rear of the Six as Chase maneuvered to the left and right to avoid the contact the maniac behind him seemed to be attempting. Chase, his mind focused, his fear non-existent, went over his options in his head.

  It was clear he was not going to out run the Lincoln. The road ahead of him was winding, the terrain rolling. He could see for miles, and there seemed to be no place to hide. Stopping was out of the question. Out running him was out of the question. Just one option seemed to remain. He was going to have to attack.

  All four tires on the Six squealed in protest of their new assignment. Chase had steered to his left and stomped on the brakes in unison with the maneuver, locking up all four wheels. As the Lincoln shot past he jerked the wheel to the right, releasing the brakes, and pounding the gas to the floor. While slamming into the larger vehicle, and sending it lurching to the right, Chase looked across at the other driver. If he was afraid or surprised, it didn’t show through the maniacal smile covering his entire face.

  “He’s a madman,” Chase said to no one in particular.

  ***

  The maneuver had caught Hans off guard, but now the larger car, with more power, held a distinct advantage. Departure from the city streets had been a rookie mistake. In town Chase could have used the other vehicles and traffic to keep distance between the two, but once he had left town his death was all but secured. He noticed that he was smiling again, and couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun. The Packard next to him was bucking against the big Model K, but the K had almost two thousand more pounds of steel, and held its place like a stubborn mule. Hans reached to his right and picked up the .45 that had fallen to the floor. The smile still planted on his face he looked to his left, raised the weapon, and fired one shot. A deafening roar filled the cabin of the vehicle, the driver’s window shattering, a split second before the passenger’s window of the Packard also shattered. In his haste Hans had failed to roll down the window, and the ringing in his ears was the price he paid.

  ***

  Chase saw the gun come up, and in a desperate attempt to avoid the bullet, pounded on the gas. The maneuver worked, as the bullet entered the vehicle, but didn’t hit Chase. He didn’t know where it hit, but he detected no pain. His nemesis in the other car was no longer smiling, and seemed to be in a small state of shock. The two vehicles remained locked in a death struggle, and the smaller Six was losing; Chase needed a new plan, but he was running low on options. He hit the brakes again, but the driver of the K recovered, and again sporting a smile, matched him. Speed was going to have to be Chase’s friend. It would be more difficult for him to get shot if they were still maneuvering against each other at a breakneck pace.

  The two vehicles shot over a small ridge, glued together, at speeds of ninety miles per hour, when Chase saw his salvation. A quarter of a mile ahead, and in the Lincoln’s lane, was a tractor ambling down the road. Just a hundred yards in front of the tractor was a stream, with a one lane bridge. All he needed to do was get there and something was going to have to give.

  ***

  Hans cursed his luck at seeing the tractor up ahead blocking his lane. It was of no consequence, though; he would just have to end the game here. He maneuvered to his left, slamming into the smaller vehicle, which gave ground, yet refused to move from the road. The wind whipping past the vehicle roared in his still ringing ears, and the smell of burning rubber and exhaust permeated his nostrils. His smile returned as just ahead the small tractor had heard the two vehicles and moved off the road.

 
For the first time Hans noticed the one lane bridge up ahead, and, seeing it, steeled his resolve to end the car battle. Everything was happening so fast, and it was time to stop toying with his prey like a cat with a mouse. He prepared to force the smaller Packard Six off the road by moving the Lincoln to his right, creating separation, so that the next blow would be the final of the road battle. He looked to his left to get a bearing on his target’s speed and aim his vehicle. Hans hoped that Edward Rex Chase wouldn’t be killed in the crash. He would enjoy watching him die. What he saw next boggled his mind, and erased his arrogant smile. In the opposite driver’s window, his lower body in the vehicle, his upper body facing the Lincoln, Rex Chase had that determined look in his eyes only competitors on the field of play had seen before. Then, all of a sudden, the darkness enveloped the youthful spy.

  ***

  Chase had contemplated his options again. The tractor leaving the road was unfortunate, and the bridge was coming up fast. His little Packard wasn’t going to push the big Model K anywhere, and Chase didn’t want to slam into the small stream. He had noticed when he had stolen the car, though, a ball and mitt on the passenger’s seat. They had fallen on the floor, but he grabbed the ball, rolled down the driver’s window, put the vehicle in neutral and climbed to a sitting position, half in the vehicle, half out. The driver of the Lincoln had been concentrating on the road, and looked over just as Chase cocked his arm back, took careful aim and fired a four seam fastball at the man.

  His arm was stiff from before, he hadn’t warmed up, and he was in an awkward position, but his adrenaline fueled body propelled the ball toward his assailant at almost a hundred miles per hour. He saw the smile leave the face of the other driver, and as they hurtled past the incredulous farmer at seventy miles per hour, fifty yards from the bridge, the ball smacked straight into its target.

  The ball bounced off the other man’s forehead and incapacitated him, but the Lincoln obeyed its last command and slammed into the Packard. Chase almost flew from the vehicle, but got a toe hold on the steering wheel as he used every muscle in his body to stay with the car. They were yards from the stream now, and though neither vehicle continued to be fueled, they were still traveling at sixty. Chase’s toe hold caused the Packard to swerve off the road and the blue luxury vehicle ejected him. As he flew through the air the world seemed to be in slow motion. He tumbled in such a way as to see the Lincoln crossing the bridge, like someone steered it across. Maybe he hadn’t knocked the man out.

  “I hope I don’t die,” thought Chase.

  *******************

  35.

  Anelie Hoff looked out the window of her personal DC-3 aircraft, and studied the ground below. They had stopped for fuel already, and were now through the state of Pennsylvania. She had lived in Germany for many years now, but still marveled at the immensity of the United States of America. Her youth had been in the States, but her family had never gone on cross country trips, or even left the state of California. Until meeting Dietrich she had been quite lonesome and bored. The farms below sat blanketed in darkness. Her trip out west had been an emergency and she was thankful for the speedy aircraft.

  Commercial airplanes over the last few years had grown by leaps and bounds. Two years ago this exact same trip would have been turbulent, cold, and just plain uncomfortable. The speed at which the aircraft traveled was also becoming better. In her DC2 she had often made this trip in sixteen or seventeen hours, but today she had gone there and back in just under twenty-four.

  On a cot next to her lay the unmoving body of Angela Sarff. Her surgeon had repaired the artery in her leg with skillful precision, and now co-piloted the plane. If she weren’t married, he would be someone she’d have an interest in. She had noticed him stealing glances at her as they prepared for surgery, and she toyed with the idea of having an affair with him. Anelie had no delusions that her husband had been faithful to her over the years. She hadn’t met a powerful German man who was faithful, but women could not often afford such lustful pleasures.

  At five feet eight inches, she was tall for a woman, and not attracted to men who were shorter than her, which were most. She had long blond hair that was often kept pinned up, but when left down, spanned the length of her back. Her eyes were a bright blue, and on more than one occasion she had heard men talk of having children with her because of her pure bloodline. Her normal attire would be quite conservative, but with the hurriedness of her trip she had just the clothes on her back, which consisted of tight khaki slacks, a white button down blouse, a jacket, and brown flats. Anelie smiled to herself as she had caught the surgeon looking at her breasts on a number of occasions. She had loosed an extra button on purpose to help stimulate his imagination, and her ample offerings had garnered stares.

  Angela let out a groan from the cot and Anelie fixed her attention on her. The woman had lost a lot of blood. Both the surgeon and she had given her a pint of their own blood, but their patient’s color still remained pale. Anelie marveled at how beautiful the tanned woman would be once she was back to good health. The good doctor had done such a fine stitching job on her leg that the scar would not even be noticeable. Under normal circumstances, when repairing arteries the surgeon lef the wound accessible because they would have to go in later and remove the sutures, but new advances in medicine had let the doctor use some kind of mesh around the artery, allowing it to heal naturally, through clotting. He had guaranteed her that in time it would dissolve without inflicting any harm.

  “Amazing,” she said out loud. Just then the surgeon stepped from the cabin of the plane and approached her.

  “We should be landing in forty-five minutes ma’am,” he shouted because of the noise of the airplane’s twin engines.

  She looked at him and stood, seduction in her eyes. He was six inches taller than her, and as she moved closer he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It was clear he felt uncomfortable. She brought his head down and purred into his ear as she groped the ample bulge in the front of his pants.

  “And if I use you as a sex toy for the next thirty minutes do you think we could keep that to ourselves?”

  He spun her around, pinned her against the wall, and pressed himself close. She could feel him growing against her lower back as he ripped open her blouse, massaging her breast with his right hand, and pulling her head back by the hair with his left. He kissed her neck and stopped to reply.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  *******************

  36.

  Small wisps of smoke trailed the aircraft down the runway as the DC-3 sat down with a gentle bump. Dietrich Hoff hired only the best of the best, and he marveled at the skill of his pilot. He had planned on flying down the coast to settle some business matters, but the unexpected actions of his wife left him needing some answers from her.

  On its way to the hangar, the private aircraft taxied around a few other planes, and came to rest. Hoff had chosen the location because of its seclusion from the busiest sections of the airport, and he wondered if he would be requiring that seclusion tonight. It had been unlike his wife to order the elite commando unit on a mission without first consulting him, and he meant to get answers from her now.

  Anelie stepped from the plane and he marveled at her beauty. Even after all of these years, and though he had not always been faithful, his love for her was still deep. The next few minutes were not going to be easy for him, and as she approached, Dietrich Hoff managed a smile.

  “You look beautiful, as usual. My, your flight must have been restful. You look radiant,” he greeted her with a hug.

  “Thank-you my dear.” Anelie thought about what she had been doing minutes before and was grateful her husband seemed none the wiser. “I hadn’t expected you.”

  “Well darling, I felt as though we needed to speak about the dispatching of my elite commandos, and I felt as though I needed to do so in person,” he said.

  Anelie shifted her weight, not knowing her husband had heard of
the ordeal in Arizona. It wasn’t long ago when news would take days to travel across the continent. Now, it seemed like her husband learned about everything in his organization within hours. She decided not to mince words.

  “I knew speed was of the essence, dear, and I apologize for not informing you of my plans, but I couldn’t very well have let Angela die in the Arizona desert.”

  “The life of a woman you don’t even know is worth more than my best team?” Her answer had not sufficed. “I had plans for them, and now, now I’ve had to throw together a hodge podge of other men to go out there and clean up after you. When you do these things, do you think? Do you even think about what you are doing?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “It was so important as to lose all of my best men?” he asked the question again.

  She knew herself to be on thin ice and decided to tread lightly, pulling her husband close and purring in his ear.

  “I apologize if I overstepped my bounds, my dearest Dietrich,” she reached down with her left hand and massaged him while holding his head with her right, “How can I ever make it up to you?”

  Fleetingly, Hoff contemplated ravaging his wife right there in the hangar, but ruled it out as he noticed the stretcher being unloaded from the plane by the pilot and his last commando. He rebuffed her advance and changed the subject.