by Diane Capri
She waited for a further response. She heard obnoxiously loud chewing.
After a while, Gordo’s heavy footsteps approached the bathroom. She sat down but quickly thought better of it. If Gordo was going to attack her, she’d need to be ready to fight back. And if he wasn’t, well, she’d run if she saw a way out.
Whatever he’d jammed under the doorknob screeched away, and the knob twisted. She clenched all her muscles, ready to react.
When the door opened, Gordo and a large cardboard box blocked her view. He pushed a generic Italian pizza box with a cartoon chef on the front toward her. Normally, Jordan was something of a pizza snob. Not tonight.
She accepted the box slowly while she looked into the big room. Hugo was seated in front of the exit door directly across from the bathroom, blocking the only escape route she saw.
Jordan could be smarter and faster than these guys. Maybe.
The Boss might have ordered them to keep her alive, but they could screw up. Or, worse, decide to ignore his orders.
While the bathroom door was still open, Jordan glanced to the right. She saw a metal door frame, unguarded. Maybe the door had been sealed. She couldn’t tell.
“Take the box.” Gordo shoved the pizza box into her chest, pushing her backward. She lost her footing and plopped down hard onto the cold tile on her butt, still holding the pizza box. Gordo glared at her and backed out. He closed her inside the bathroom again.
Jordan’s stomach was fairly jumping with hunger, but she waited until Gordo had closed the door before she opened the box. Contents: one slice of pizza.
She licked her lips and brought the gooey slice to her mouth.
Stop!
These guys had already drugged her once. They’d threatened to drug her again while she was still in the van.
“Third time’s the charm,” she mumbled.
Jordan looked longingly at the pizza a couple of moments before she put it back in the box and pushed it into the corner near the plastic tub.
The mouth-watering aroma assaulted her senses. She climbed off the floor, splashed her face with lukewarm water from the faucet, and gulped a few handfuls to help fill her stomach. She retrieved the box and pulled crumbs of cheese from the cardboard, savoring each bite as if it were an eight-course feast.
Still hungry and more frustrated, Jordan looked out the bathroom window again. She strained her neck to see the exterior brick wall on her left. What was on the outside of that door frame she had seen? She pulled the small plastic storage tub to the window, flipped it over and stepped on it as lightly as possible.
She placed her palms on the narrow brick windowsill and pushed herself up. From the slightly higher vantage point, she saw the door closest to her bathroom prison led to a usable fire escape. She grinned.
Yes! She’d have fist pumped the air if she’d had a free fist.
Jordan’s arms quivered with the tension of holding up her body weight. She lowered herself from the window sill and off the plastic tub as quietly as possible.
She swiped her palms together to knock the dust off and returned the plastic tub to the corner.
She scrunched her eyes together as if a serious frown would improve her hearing and her memory. Had she heard Gordo move the furniture to block the bathroom door after he delivered the pizza?
She shook her head a couple of quick wags and stopped immediately when her migraine howled louder than Keith’s watchdog. She held her head in her hands and kneaded the pain away.
Because they’d drugged the pizza, they figured she couldn’t try to escape.
If she’d eaten the pizza, they’d have been right.
But she didn’t eat the pizza. They were wrong.
Don’t get cocky. You’re not out of here yet.
No. But I’m closer to being free than I was an hour ago.
Great. Now you’re arguing with yourself in your head, too?
She sighed, stretched her shoulders and neck.
Maybe she was delirious, but she was thinking she wasn’t locked in. The more she dwelled on the idea, the more likely it seemed. But there was only one way to find out.
CHAPTER 21
Jordan had never turned on the bathroom light, meaning her eyes had adjusted to the darkness that gradually enveloped the tiny room after sunset. She’d said nothing since they brought the pizza, but no one had returned to check on her, which had confirmed her suspicion about the drugged food.
When the bathroom was finally reduced to inky blackness, and she heard nothing but quiet from the big room, she crouched onto her hands and knees and peered through the wide crack under the door.
She saw no activity.
After a while, she heard snores. At least two men had drifted off. What about the other two? She waited another hour.
Do it now, Jordan. Now.
As silently as possible, she pushed the bathroom door.
It moved!
Then, she opened the door another tiny crack.
Ambient light illuminated the large windows from outside. She saw four men sleeping like babies on the floor with blankets. They slept, but they remained on guard close to the exit door, too.
Between the bathroom door and the fire escape was a small dark rectangular object.
Jordan pushed the door a tiny bit wider, and took one tip-toeing footstep outside the bathroom. What was the object? She picked it up and stuck it in her jacket pocket to examine later.
She continued silently across the floor until she had the palms of both hands against the fire escape door. Do it fast, like ripping off that duct tape. On the count of three, she shoved as hard as she could.
The door’s metal rattled. Loud. All four men stirred, except Gordo, who jumped into a defensive crouch.
He spun toward the sound…and bounded toward her.
Jordan frantically continued shoving the fire escape door, desperate to get it open. She’d jump from the fire escape if she had to. Gordo was fast, but she could beat him in a foot race. Especially wearing her running shoes instead of his clunky boots.
Gordo grabbed her around the waist, threw her into the bathroom, and slapped her face. Hard. His slap stung hot and crushed her cheek into her teeth. Her entire jaw hurt.
Gordo towered over her. “Next time you try that, you’ll never walk again. Understand?”
The door slammed closed, followed by the sound of furniture dragged to block the doorknob again.
Jordan huddled on the bathroom floor. Her cheek and her eyes burned. She blinked rapidly. Her whole body ached, and she was starting to lose touch with reality, but she knew it would be a waste of energy to cry.
She rested her head on the plastic tub. She was worn down. She needed sleep. She turned the box to get more comfortable and a slip of paper fell out. It was a receipt for rent on the building paid by J Hook Enterprises.
What caught her attention was the signature at the bottom. She couldn’t make out the sloppy name, but in the place of a middle initial in the signature was a symbol she’d seen before. It looked like a J with three extra loops. Almost like a fish hook, but fancier.
Five years ago, investigators had found a similar J at the scene of Brenda Fox’s murder. Bile curdled in Jordan’s empty stomach and heat rose from her throat. She felt faint. She crawled on her hands and knees to the toilet, and threw up.
CHAPTER 22
The forgotten object she’d picked up in the dark during her failed escape and stashed in her pocket poked her stomach. What was it, anyway? She pulled it out to check.
She felt freedom, like the freedom of running on Bayshore, rush to her lungs. Her fingers glided over the smooth black curves of a remote control transmitter for a drone.
This could be treasure, or trash. She flipped it over, looking for any clues about what kind of multirotor it controlled. The transmitter was small, which hopefully meant the drone was, too. Should make it easier to fly.
A small screen was built into the transmitter, which meant the drone had a camera.
What the drone observed through the camera would show up on the transmitter, which would allow her to navigate it.
Hopefully.
If she could operate a transmitter she’d never used before.
Jordan stared at the big POWER button on the transmitter. She had very little hands-on experience.
If the drone was inside the building, and if she screwed up and crashed it, she was toast. She’d have to wait for a door to open, then fly the drone outside.
But—if the drone was already outside, so much the better.
Either way, once the drone was out, she could fly it around frantically. Maybe someone would complain, sending police to find its owner.
Not a foolproof plan, to be sure. She simply didn’t have a better one.
Before she could make her move, Jordan heard increased chatter from the other room.
“You have her phone here?” Hugo. Volume elevated to roaring levels. Speaking English. “They can track that, idiot!”
Emilio said, “We have to move her now. They’ll come here.”
Jordan crouched down on the floor and peered through the gap under the door again. All four men were in the big room. No one spoke while Hugo paced quietly.
Finally, Hugo said, “We’ll use her phone to buy us some time. Emilio, take the phone to Raymond James Stadium. That place is so big, they could spend hours looking for it there.”
No. Jordan didn’t want them to buy any time. Time was not for sale. In fact, there was a shortage. Great. Now she was babbling.
Emilio grabbed Jordan’s phone from Gordo and walked toward the heavy door.
This is it. When they open the door, send the drone out.
Jordan sat on the floor with the transmitter and steadied her nerves.
One of them would no doubt barge in and steal their transmitter back as soon as they realized what she’d done. She would set the drone to “autopilot hover” mode, remove the battery, drop the transmitter in the toilet tank, and flush the battery down the toilet.
When she heard the exit door open, she held her finger over the power button, prepared to use everything she’d learned about operating drones from Keith.
She pressed the power button. The monitor on the transmitter turned on, and she could see what its camera saw. A very pleasant surprise. The drone was outside. One big problem instantly eliminated.
CHAPTER 23
Jordan gripped the transmitter and sent the drone straight up into the air. Yes! She practiced making it hover at a low altitude for a moment.
Okay, that’s enough practice. Go!
She sent the drone soaring higher and higher until it flew above all the buildings nearby.
“What was that?” Gordo’s voice asked. “Did you hear that buzzing?”
Three sets of footsteps ran toward the exit door.
“Stay inside,” Hugo said. “Guard the bathroom door in case the idiot decides to come out.”
Watching the feed from the drone’s camera come over the screen on the transmitter, Jordan sent the drone five blocks south at full speed.
Centro Tampa’s club district was the one street that would be alive at this hour. She stationed the drone directly above Tampa’s version of Bourbon Street, at the height of a three-story building.
Hugo and his crew were serious about multirotors, which meant this drone would have GPS tracking recording its route. She set the drone to automatically maintain position, pried out the transmitter’s battery, dropped the transmitter in the toilet tank, and flushed the battery as planned.
Someone would call the cops now, and the cops would be able to use the quad’s GPS function to trace its last location to this building. For sure.
Probably.
Maybe.
“My drone is gone,” the van driver she’d dubbed Victor, yelled from somewhere near the door side of the room. “Pipo, you idiot. I told you to bring it in.”
“It ain’t my fault,” Gordo said. His real name must be Pipo.
“Somebody stole the drone and the transmitter from the truck bed.” Jordan could almost hear the sneer on Gordo’s face. “And it wouldn’t have happened if you had brought them inside.”
“I brought the transmitter inside, man,” Gordo said. “I put it on the floor.”
Uh oh.
Her muscles tensed as they rushed toward her and yanked the bathroom door open.
Hugo in front, with Victor and Gordo behind. “Hand over the transmitter, princess. We know you took it.”
“I’ve got nothin’.” Jordan held up her palms. “I don’t even know how to fly a roto-motor or whatever you call them.”
Hugo tilted his head and pressed his lips together. “Playing stupid ain’t gonna work. You’ve been at drone practice. You know how they work.” He snapped his fingers behind him. “Pipo. Call The Boss. See what he wants us to do about the situation.”
“We can’t wait for the boss, man. We gotta get out of here,” Gordo said. “Soon as Emilio gets back with the van, we split. Let’s move her now.”
Next thing she knew, Jordan was being pulled into the center of the room.
“Sit.” When she didn’t, Gordo picked her up and plopped her butt in the chair. “Stay.”
Gordo pulled out the roll of duct tape and bound her hands together. He glared at her and growled. “If you move, I’ll tape you to the chair.”
Jordan knew he wasn’t joking. She watched while they rapidly gathered their things to leave. They were worried now, which meant they might make dangerous decisions.
She tugged her hands against the duct tape. Not even a little give in her bindings. She couldn’t break free.
She felt lightheaded and nauseated from lack of food and trauma.
The drone would get police attention shortly. They could trace it back to its previous GPS location. Jordan prayed that would happen before Hugo and crew moved and took her with them.
CHAPTER 24
Seconds later, the warehouse door opened with a loud BOOM! An enormous flash of blinding light and then the room filled with smoke.
Jordan tried to breathe. She gasped for air but the smoke filled her lungs and reduced her to a fit of choked coughing. Tears streamed from her irritated eyes. She planted her feet to stand, but her legs didn’t lift her and her body didn’t budge.
She pressed each finger and counted to ten, accounting for all her digits. As long as she wasn’t injured, she could move. She managed to stand and step forward. Now was the time to run.
She surged toward the doorway.
“Stun grenade,” Hugo yelled from several feet to her right. “Run!”
With her vision impaired, she couldn’t be sure who was where.
A flock of tall, bulky figures surrounded the doorway. It was smoky. Still dark outside. The only light came from a distant streetlamp. Everyone was dressed in black. She tripped and one of them caught her and she screamed.
“Are you a hostage?” the Tampa police officer asked. Another one set her hands free.
Jordan replied, “I was kidnapped.”
Then, she heard the metal click of handcuffs beside her.
“We got two of them,” another officer said.
The smoke began to clear. She saw Hugo and Gordo in handcuffs. Another officer read Miranda rights. Emilio might still be out hiding her phone. Victor must have run away in the chaos.
Jordan walked toward the doorway. Standing behind the officers, illuminated by a flashlight, was Keith Simpson.
She ran to him and threw her arms around him.
He accepted her hug awkwardly.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
Before he could answer, Jordan heard the unmistakable rev of a motorcycle engine. Illuminated by street lamps, she saw Emilio driving and Victor grabbing a seat on the back.
“They’re getting away!”
CHAPTER 25
Two Tampa P.D. cruisers turned on their flashers and gave chase just when FBI agents rolled up on the scene. They must be here as a part of
the drone investigation. Federal issue. Police were likely responding to the drone annoyance complaint.
And then there was Keith.
Jordan turned back to face him. “Why are you here? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to see you. But did you save my life or is this all just coincidence?”
Keith shoved his hands in his pockets. “I heard the drone complaint on police scanner traffic. And when I saw that it was near you, and that you were in an abandoned cigar factory, I figured you might need a little help. Police were on it before me, but I wasn’t far behind.” He stood half sheepish, half proud.
“How did you know I was at an abandoned cigar factory? I heard my phone die.”
“The Find Me app shows last known location even after your phone dies. Which was right here at the cigar factory.” Geeky and adorable as ever.
“You’re amazing, Keith Simpson.” Now that she was safe, she didn’t want to miss the rest of this. “I assume you brought The Fly?”
“It’s in my car.”
“Come on!” Jordan grabbed his hand and pulled. “Are we gonna track this police chase or what?”
Keith grinned broader than the Grand Canyon. He retrieved The Fly from his car, lifted up and zoomed off.
“What’s your range on this thing?” Jordan asked.
“Couple miles. But keep in mind we can see what The Fly can see. Which is much more than two miles at three hundred feet in the air. Although, with only the streetlamps at this hour, our visibility will be limited.”
“It’s recording, too, right? We’ll have it all on video.” Jordan leaned in close to the transmitter’s monitors to watch the video feed from The Fly’s three cameras in real time. Police cars chased after the motorcycle, and The Fly kept track of the motorcycle by its tail lights.
A police officer in the gravel lot outside near them stuffed Hugo and Gordo into cruisers and locked them in.
The officer turned to Jordan. “Two down, two to go. Don’t worry. We’ll find them.”