Storm Rising

by Steven Becker

  He couldn’t help but hear the excitement in Cody’s voice. This was like candy for the gamer. “Simple as that. Just send the elevator!” Mako reached another ninety-degree bend and braced himself for the fall. With his back to the duct, he started down. Leg shaking from the effort, he reached the next bend and looked around. “I’m not seeing it.”

  “Use your phone. It’s there.”

  Mako took his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight. The bright light illuminated the duct, and just beyond his reach, across a larger duct, he saw the service door.

  “Alicia, elevator to the sixteenth floor, please,” he heard Cody say, relieved that they were both helping now.

  “Just a second.”

  “I’m on the eighteenth floor!” Mako reminded them.

  “Trust the Force,” Cody replied.

  “We have about an hour before the first diver is up,” she said.

  “A little help here,” Mako responded, upset that he was not the center of their attention.

  “As soon as you’re on the elevator, I’ll take you out,” Alicia said.

  Mako braced himself with his legs, extended his upper body over the void and grabbed one of the nuts holding the service door in place. He tried to turn it, but his hands were covered with sweat and he lost hold, almost dropping into the darkness below.

  He reached back and dried his hand on his pants before grabbing the nut again. His grip was better, but it was too tight to loosen by hand. “I need tools.” Remembering the shark-shaped key chain Alicia had given him, he withdrew it from his pocket and looked at the tiered shapes carved out of the interior. The void in the center of the tool fit over the nut, and he twisted it, using the teeth to grab the nut. With both hands on the tool, he turned it counterclockwise. It moved easily with the additional grip and leverage provided by the tool. He moved on to the next nut and quickly had all four off.

  “Okay. What now?” he asked.

  “There’s a scaffolding running right outside. Push out the cover and you’re out.”

  Mako turned off the light from the phone and placed it and the keychain back in his pocket. He eased himself forward and pushed against the door. It released and slammed onto the service scaffold fixed to the building. Light flooded the duct, and he breathed in the fresh air. Easing himself forward another few inches, he grabbed the edge of the opening and with a grunt pulled himself toward it. His fingers grabbed for the steel grating that made up the walkway for the scaffolding, but he didn’t have enough momentum and his legs fell into the void, slamming against the duct as they hit.

  He fought to pull himself up. Facing the duct, he reached the opening and worked his fingers forward an inch at a time, grabbing for another section of the open grate with each attempt. Finally he had enough leverage to pull himself through the opening, and his stomach dropped as he looked over the narrow scaffold at the street seventeen stories below. He waited, trying to control his breath, until he heard a motorized sound. He looked across at the exposed elevator shaft and crawled toward it, trying not to look down.

  “The elevator is on its way. Climb on top and I’ll take you down,” Alicia said.

  Mako waited for the elevator car to stop and crawled onto the elevator. Just as he braced himself, he felt his stomach drop again as it started to descend. It felt like the free-fall part of a sky dive and took him by surprise. Just as suddenly as it had started, the elevator slowed and stopped. He looked around before vaulting off and landing onto the hard sidewalk.

  ***

  They heard the first diver at the swim platform and she checked her watch, surprised to see that an hour had passed. “Can you help the divers?” she asked Cody.

  “Okay. I got it. You take Mako from here,” he said.

  “That’d be nice,” Mako said. “I’m starting to feel a bit second-class here.”

  She ignored him and focused on her computer, logging out of the Lloyd’s building site and hoping they insured themselves against computer fraud, because hacking in to their site had been all too easy.

  “I’m still here,” he said.

  “Hold on.” She pulled up the British Airways site and bought a one-way ticket from Heathrow to New York. The flight was scheduled to leave in several hours, so she was able to check him in and send the boarding pass directly to his phone.

  “Flight leaves in three hours. Best bet is to backtrack to the tube station and ride out to Heathrow.”

  “Best check my Oyster pass too. Not sure what I’ve got on it.”

  Alicia opened another tab and went to the bookmark for the London Underground, where she added another twenty pounds to Mako’s card. “Got it. You should be all set.”

  “A bit to eat would be nice. I’m a little low on cash, though.”

  She felt the boat shift from the weight of the divers. Ignoring the comment, she left the cabin and helped the excited divers aboard. She helped Cody release the spent tanks from the divers’ backs and took their bulging catch bags full of lobster, which she placed in the cooler. Caught up in the divers’ excitement, she forgot about Mako until she heard him in her ear.

  “They’re on to me. Going to need some help.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The sidewalk was barren—no landscape, nothing to conceal him—so Mako did the only thing he could. He ran.

  “I’m on the move,” he said, hoping his words were intelligible over his ragged breathing. His legs still burned from climbing through the duct, but he fought through the pain. He had always been fast, and with a conscious effort to even out his breathing, he started to pace himself. But he was not fast enough. Every few seconds he turned to check on the men pursuing him and saw they were gaining. He had a block lead, enough to hide or change routes without them seeing, and regretted spending so much time researching the bars and pubs rather than devising an escape route.

  “I need a plan,” he said, gasping for air. There was nothing but static in his ear. “Come on, guys—a little help.”

  “On it.” Cody’s voice was hardly reassuring.

  “Get me somewhere crowded. This business district is a ghost town.” Mako backtracked to Leadenhall, doubting he could lose his pursuers there, but it was the only route he knew. “That market on the other side of the river. It’s a madhouse.”

  “Got a name?”

  “Borough Market,” Alicia said. “And I’m guessing he didn’t go for the food.”

  “Whatever,” Mako said, struggling to talk and breathe at the same time.

  “Okay. Zooming in now,” Cody said. “Take care of the divers,” Mako heard him say to Alicia. “I’ll get him to Heathrow.”

  Mako looked behind him and saw the men closing. He picked up speed. When he reached the exit for the market, he took a guess and turned left, knowing the river was in that direction.

  “You’re on Gracechurch. In eight hundred feet, bear right onto King William. That will take you directly to London Bridge.”

  “Thank you, Siri,” Mako said, knowing he should save his breath, but unable to hold the barb. He used the reflection from one of the store windows to check his pursuit and saw the Iranian still holding his pace, but the security guards had either gone back or fallen too far behind to matter. It was a one-on-one race. Increasing his speed again, he followed the bend in the road around to King William Street. The bridge lay ahead, a product of the seventies: low and architecturally insignificant, especially compared to the Tower Bridge on his left and the Millennium Bridge, visible in the distance on his right. He was running on fumes now, regretting that most of his efforts at the gym were spent in front of a mirror, working to keep his abs flat.

  “The bridge is dead ahead,” Cody said.

  “Really. I hadn’t noticed.” Mako cursed under his breath and increased the length of his strides, trying to distance himself from the Iranian before he ran into the foot traffic on the bridge. The man was still behind him, but they appeared to be evenly matched. As long as he could maintain this pace until he
reached the market, he knew he could lose him in its twisted alleys and throngs of shoppers. He crossed Lower Thames and in a dozen strides was on the bridge, where he was forced to slow to a fast walk as he weaved through the other pedestrians.

  Thankful for the slower pace, he ignored the looks of the angry tourists he jostled as he moved by them. He chanced a second to look back. The man was still there and had somehow gained on him. Mako guessed he was leaving a path through the crowd, making it easy for the man to follow, but there was nothing he could do about it. Halfway across, he turned and saw the angry face of the Iranian only several bodies behind him. A stroller blocked Mako’s path and he tried to push it out of the way until a rather large man turned and grabbed him.

  The Iranian was standing right behind the irate father now, a sly grin on his face, obviously hoping he would do his work for him, but the man shoved Mako against the railing and moved away. With his back to the rail, Mako stared into the dark eyes of his pursuer. He looked right and left, realizing there was no way out. He would have to fight the man. He reached into his pocket for a pen, the closest thing to a weapon he carried. The flash of a knife blade caught his eye, and the man moved closer, the crowd parting as he stood only a foot away now.

  Mako had his back against the low concrete wall that served as a railing. There was nowhere to go except over. He set his hands on the smooth top and vaulted to a catlike position on its flat surface. The hesitation cost him, allowing the man to lunge forward and catch him with the knife. Its razor-sharp blade penetrated his pants leg, tearing the fabric near the pocket and entering near his groin.

  He felt the burn and knew he was bleeding but ignored the wound and looked down at the river. The water was gone, blocked by a large sightseeing barge filled with tourists all pointing up at him. The boat was moving, but he suspected the pilot had slowed to allow his passengers a better show than the Tower Bridge ahead.

  Fortunately, it was high tide. Mako took the opportunity and jumped, landing on two tourists not fast enough to move out of his way. Screams came from the crowd as the barge picked up speed, the captain unaware of his new passenger. The crowd moved back, allowing Mako enough room to stand. Blood was trickling down his leg, but he guessed it was not a fatal wound and moved to the rail, checking himself for other injuries as he went. His hand reached down to the torn pocket and he realized the drive was gone.

  Before he could react, he noticed a woman brave the gap between him and the crowd and approach.

  “You’re hurt,” she said, with her hands out in front of her in a nonthreatening position. “I’m a doctor. Mind if I have a look?”

  He looked down at his leg and noticed a small pool of blood on the deck. Nodding for her to approach, he looked ahead to see the barge moving towards a pier. “Hurry, though, I’ll be needing to disembark.” Something felt different when he spoke and he noticed the microphone was gone. Moving toward the crowd, he pushed aside several passengers and started searching the deck where he had landed. He felt the earwig still in place, but without the microphone it was little use. The woman touched him and he turned to her.

  “Lie down,” she said in an authoritative voice.

  Exhausted and defeated, he sat on the deck with his legs in front of him. She knelt next to him, and he couldn’t help but notice her scent as she leaned close and pulled the torn fabric away from the wound.

  “I’d think a couple of stitches should do it,” she said with an American accent. “Stay here, I’ll see if they have a first-aid kit aboard.” She got up and moved away.

  The crowd was getting braver now, and he felt cornered. The woman approached, carrying a white box with a red cross on it. He was about to say he was okay, when the barge lurched forward. His immediate reaction was to run, but he quickly realized they had hit the dock. Two crewmen were running fore and aft with lines. He watched as both jumped on the dock at the same time and skillfully tied the barge off. The passengers, just a moment ago mesmerized by him, were now excitedly moving toward the starboard rail, pressing against each other, ready for their next adventure. He looked back and saw the woman still there.

  “Might as well let me bandage you. It’ll be a few minutes before they’re off.”

  He nodded to her, but kept his eyes on the street above the covered walkway for any sign of police. The deck was almost clear when she finished. For the first time, he looked at her face and realized how pretty she was. He fought back against his natural reaction, knowing he had a flight to catch and no time for a dalliance. Instead of flirting, he merely thanked her.

  She rejoined her friends waiting on the pier, and he followed, using them for cover as he climbed off the barge onto the dock. The women moved off to the right and he followed, staying far enough behind so they wouldn’t feel him behind them. With every step he felt more secure, but the loss of the drive was now heavy on his mind. He left the main street and stepped into an alley, where he patted his good pocket and withdrew the phone, hoping it had not been damaged in the chase. The screen lit up, showing several text messages from Alicia. He texted his current situation, omitting the loss of the drive, and opened the map app. It showed him just a few blocks from the market. Quickly he cleaned himself off, arranging his shirttail to cover the rip in his pants. Keeping to the alleys rather than the main streets, he reached the market a few minutes later, his mouth watering at the sight of the food displays. He realized he hadn’t eaten in hours and looked hungrily at the huge stacks of meat and cheeses.

  His phone vibrated, distracting him from the gastronomic wonders, and he scrolled through Alicia’s directions to the airport. After replying that he had received them, he checked his email, finding the receipt where she had added money to his Oyster card and another message with a PDF of his boarding pass to New York. He checked the time on the home screen and realized he had only two hours to make the flight.

  Reaching into his back pocket, he was relieved to find his wallet still intact and withdrew a few notes. From the first stand he came across, he grabbed a few samples of cheese and waited for the man behind the table stacked high with food to acknowledge him. With a small loaf of bread and hunk of cheese in hand, he scanned the crowd for any sign of recognition. Finding none, he backtracked to the London Bridge.

  An hour later, his stomach was full, but the desperate feeling of failure dominated his thoughts. He felt almost naked standing in front of the security guard at Heathrow. But with no baggage, he was quickly through security, and found his zone boarding when he reached the gate. After a quick moment of anxiety, he held his phone to the scanner. Relieved when it beeped and showed a green light, he walked down the jetway and smiled at the flight attendant who stood in the doorway directing passengers to their seats. He showed her his phone and she directed him to the far aisle, not failing to notice the smile and her touch as she directed him to his seat.

  Settled back in the faux leather seat, his knees bumping the back of the seat in front, he stared at the screen of his phone and started typing the bad news. He reread the message several times before hitting the send button just as the plane was pushed back from the gate. Without waiting for the reply, he shut the power off and closed his eyes, wondering how he would overcome the setback. The loss of the drive and the bounty from the CIA would cost them, especially when Alicia saw the expenses he had incurred. With five hours to think about it, he tried to shut off his mind as the plane taxied. Half an hour later, they were still sitting on the runway, and he felt a hand on his arm. Opening his eyes, about to get angry with whoever was disturbing him, he quickly changed his attitude when he saw the flight attendant smiling at him.

  “It’s your leg, sir,” she said. “Maybe we should have a look when we get airborne.”

  Mako looked down at the soaked bandage and up at the smile on her face, wondering if that was all she wanted a look at.

  CHAPTER 4

  Mako was getting impatient. The wait was interminable as the plane sat on the runway, waiting for some unspe
cified maintenance issue. The wound hurt and needed to be rebandaged. The flight attendant who had seemed so interested before was now ignoring him, having to answer questions from the other passengers about the delay. Finally, the pilot came over the intercom. Instead of an update, he started talking about finding your inner traveler, preaching to the restless passengers that they should remain calm and untroubled; that the delay was out of their hands, and getting anxious about connecting flights was not going to help. It didn’t work on the other passengers and only aggravated Mako further as he fidgeted in his seat. He needed to use the bathroom, but he felt the jerk of the plane as it moved and the flight attendant advised him in a formal voice that no one could leave their seats until after they had reached cruising altitude. They were already over an hour on the ground, sitting in the sweltering heat, disconnected from the generator that ran the air-conditioning.

  Finally they were airborne, and he relaxed slightly. The pilot announced that the universe was back in alignment, and Mako decided that was good enough to leave his seat. Excusing himself, he brushed by the woman next to him, who gave him a fake smile. Uncertain if she saw the blood dripping down his side or if he had just upset her knitting, he slid past her and locked himself in the restroom.

  After relieving himself, which took an inordinate amount of time in the shaking compartment, Mako removed his pants and sat on the toilet. The bandage stuck to the wound when he tore it off, but that was a good sign that the bleeding was stopping. Enough tissue was exposed that he suspected stitches would be in order, something he loathed. He looked around for anything to bind the wound for the five-hour flight when there was a knock on the door.

  “Are you all right?”

  He recognized the voice of the flight attendant and smiled. “I could use some assistance,” he said and opened the bolt on the door. She slid in the narrow opening, and they stood with their bodies pressing together in the narrow space.