by Joy Ohagwu
Robert stayed silent, knowing Charlie wasn’t done. Working with him for a decade and a half gave him a good radar on when he wasn’t too happy.
Charlie twisted toward him as much as the seatbelt would allow. “With all due respect, sir, you’re my boss. But you’re also my friend. I need to be honest with you. Putting yourself and Ritz in close proximity within this situation is not a good idea, especially when someone is trying to nab either you or your wife as well. I would strongly suggest you reconsider joining this chase.”
Robert swung the cruiser down Arnold Avenue, aware of his high speed. He’d not inform Charlie that he was ready to substitute himself rather than allow Ritz to be held captive.
He was a grown man. She was a child and a girl. The risks she’d be exposed to were higher and potentially more life altering. So he’d offer himself in exchange for her—if they would accept.
As he sped along, via the I-95 highway corridor, his heart sealed further. And his mind struggled with the situation. “Call the State police chief. Have him keep a chopper running for us at the Waldorf police station. We’ll be there soon.”
Charlie quietly carried out the instruction and relayed that they had commandeered a chopper waiting for another duty.
Soon, they entered the Waldorf police station lot and parked in the area closest to the airstrip. Charlie unhooked the tablet, their radio, and ran forward to get inside the chopper.
“Welcome, sir,” the pilot greeted. Charlie nodded and entered. So did Robert as he climbed in. The pilot secured his headset, and then shouted his words over the noise. “My orders are to drop you both off at the closest proximity to your target location. A police cruiser will be waiting for you once we arrive.”
“That would be great. Thank you for taking a detour for our sakes.” Robert clicked on his belt inside the chopper. He double-checked his weapon, running his finger over the mag. “Charlie, are they still stationary?”
Charlie glanced at the tablet. “Yes, still there. We could ask the local police there to go in?” A raised brow accompanied his hinting words.
Robert shook his head. “Too risky. Moreover, they have no idea what this is about. And this isn’t simply a kidnapping.” He shifted slightly so only Charlie could hear him. “The New Rulebook software and information pertaining to it are classified above their level. We can’t involve them without clearing them first, which we have no time to do.” He jammed his automatic back in its holder. “It’s surprising Ruby and I are the only former civilians who engaged about it. Let’s not draw others in unless critically necessary. Did you learn anything new from the dumped cell phone?”
“The chip was cooked.” A crease narrowed Charlie’s eyes. “They’d destroyed it beyond use. We checked the crowbar for prints but couldn’t lift a usable print.” His jaw tightened. “As it is, this chase is our only viable lead, unless Christiana wakes up and can describe what happened, including the suspect.”
“Call the hospital to find out how she’s doing. My wife is headed there, but I think she’s more worried about the girl’s welfare than out for information. That’s our job.”
“Sure thing.” Charlie whisked out a phone. “I’m calling them now.”
As the chopper whirled toward a landing point in Dunkirk PD’s facility fifteen minutes later, Robert straightened in his seat, index finger twitching toward the release catch on his seatbelt, as relief pumped from his heart, sluicing along his eager limbs. They had not only shaved time off the chase, they were ahead and could possibly intercept the kidnappers.
As they landed, he took the time to look around in case they left something behind, grabbing his gloves which he’d set down on the seat. The pilot exited, rotated, and slid the door open.
“Thank you very much, sir. We appreciate your assistance.” Robert shook hands with him.
“Good luck to you.” The pilot shut the rear door, turned, and hopped back in.
Robert and Charlie ran toward a police cruiser waiting at the gated entrance, hoping it was for them.
The door opened, and a man stepped out, wearing a black police uniform. “Captain Robert Towers?” He curved a gloved hand around his eyes as vapor from his breath colored the air.
Robert nodded and waved an equally gloved hand, unable to shake hands with him. “Yes, I’m Towers.”
The officer offered the vehicle keys. “It’s all warmed up for you.”
Robert accepted it. “Thank you.”
Charlie drew up short and stopped. “They’re moving again. Hurry.” He ran around to the passenger door and jumped in, clicking on his seatbelt and turning on the siren while Robert veered out of the gate into street traffic. As they raced ahead, Charlie’s attention remained riveted to the tablet, monitoring the movement.
“Where’s the chase team?” Robert swung through a boulevard, recalling the one time he’d been around this area.
“They’re behind us. We’re closer.”
Soon, he was closing the gap faster, not only having avoided traffic that usually percolated around I-95, but made good airtime. He entered Route 4, proceeded into Route 260, which had scarce traffic if you knew where to enter and exit strategically. He moved ahead and prayed the SWAT rescue team wasn’t too far behind them. Both their choppers at the SSPD were out for servicing, or those would’ve been their first option.
He veered into Route 261. “Please turn off the siren, Charlie. I don’t want to announce our presence.”
Charlie did so. “Eight miles away now.”
A couple more turns and they should almost catch up with them.
CHAPTER FIVE
“For by strength no man shall prevail.”- 1 Samuel 2:9
Robert finally glanced at Charlie. “I appreciate your professional advice earlier. I know you care about me, Ruby, and Ritz, and you’re more than just a colleague. You’re my friend-turned-family. But there’s not a chance, Charlie, that I would not be here, doing this. Matter of fact, Ruby would have preferred to be here as well. Our only daughter will not be kidnapped while I sit on the sidelines watching it happen. Sorry, I won’t. I’ll fight to get her back. And I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing here. I need to do this.”
He swung a glance briefly at Charlie. “Or I might never face my wife again. This will destroy her, not to talk of Ritz, and I won’t let that happen. My daughter lost me once. I won’t lose her. Time for me to be her father and protect her.” He swung a sharp turn, which had Charlie clutching the overhead handle with a viselike grip as his knuckles whitened.
“Well, make sure you get us there alive at least,” Charlie chided. He glanced down at the tablet. “Two more turns.”
“We’re not going that route.” Robert made a left, instead of a right turn.
“What?” Charlie spun.
“We’re going behind them, not in front. I don’t want them to see us approaching.” Robert remembered the day he took this road. Late at night, he was rushing to respond to a call for an officer and an ambulance to assist a woman in labor around Christmastime. It was in the early days of his police career, and he had to serve in a couple of stations far from Silver Stone a few times.
Now, recalling how tough labor had been for Ruby, and the other ladies in the hospital maternity section, he swore never to undermine motherhood. However, that night long ago, he had hazarded guesses and found a string of byways to reach that family’s location faster, a location around this area.
Weaving through them now was like rehearsing a poem you’d recited before, a long time ago—only faster and better this time. Soon, they emerged at a two-way street. The car swerved, and he made another quick turn then joined a wider, mostly clear street.
Perfect.
Charlie pumped his arm. “Bravo. We’re ahead of the pursuit team. I’ll tell them to fall back a few paces to give us a chance to intercept.” Charlie chuckled, patting Robert’s arm. “Let’s go get your daughter back.”
“Good, yes, tell them so.” Robert tried to concentr
ate and to pray and to keep his eyes sharp and alert as he navigated between slow vehicles. He had not intended for his day to go this way, but he adjusted to the new reality. Someone kidnapped his only daughter supposedly because of The New Rulebook—a seventeen-year-old classified software program. Then they threatened him with a forty-eight-hour deadline. What happens at the forty-eight-hour mark if he doesn’t cave? Because he won’t cave. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Hold on, Ritz. I’m coming for you, baby girl.
Sitting on the floor in the back of the van as it sped along, Ritz tried to shake her restraints loose, but the too-tight binding merely bit into her skin. She wriggled, cautious not to cause herself any wounds to avoid an infection while in captivity.
She blew hair off her face with a loud exhale. She had complained a while back and banged on the body of the van forcing the man to stop. He came into the back of the van, growled a warning, and then returned to his seat. But she had insisted she was hungry and began banging her shoulder on the edge again, secretly hoping someone outside would hear and come to her aid.
She tired at a point and stopped when it felt like they had gotten onto a highway and no one would hear her anyway. She had been curved with hunger truly. So, as he stopped again and loosened her bonds, took her down from the van and led her to a diner with less than two patrons seated inside, she had complied with his warning not to show any sign that something was wrong. She was in need of food, and with the cold chilling her too, she needed carbs to fuel her mind to figure out how to escape.
Her mind flashed back to her best friend, Christiana, and she started crying. If only, she’d been able to call 911 before the abductor led her away. Maybe, they could’ve saved Christiana’s life. But it was too late now. How Christiana got involved with these people, she wasn’t sure. But her kidnapper was not working alone, since he had radioed somebody earlier. Had her dad seen her missed call? Did her mom know she was missing?
Knowing her parents, Ritz was certain they’d spit fire if they had a clue she was kidnapped—information which the kidnapper gave her no chance to relay. Now, how was she to send them a message to make them know?
Her hands and feet were bound, and he had taped her mouth after they returned from the diner. She had no means of communication. So, she prayed. “Lord Jesus, please help me. I don’t know why they took me. I’m not sure if Christiana is alive, or whether someone got her medical assistance. I’m not sure what to do here. Please help my parents know I’m missing. Please get me to safety, Lord.”
She settled her head on her elbow, thankful he had turned the heater in the back up higher because she had been freezing earlier. Exhausted, enduring a throbbing head, and weary to the bone after prolonged crying, she lied down and slept off.
“The black van ahead seems to be at the right distance for where her signal is coming from.” Robert nodded toward the van three cars up.
Charlie bent into the midsection between the seats and peered then shrunk back. He eased fully into his seat and grabbed his radio. “Hang back, everyone. We are going to try to intercept the vehicle. It’s a black van license number…”
As Charlie rattled off the license number, Robert doubted the plate wasn’t a fake one. It would most likely lead to a dead end. His best odds were the first plan—get Ritz back first.
“Charlie, take the wheel.” Robert slid over to the passenger’s seat when they stopped at a traffic light, reminding him of his escape from Aqua, while swapping seats with Stephanie in a truck.
They moved again, and he strapped his bulletproof vest on tighter then picked up his radio. “This is Captain Towers speaking.” Static crackled. “I’ll try to intercept the van. Everyone be on alert.”
More static followed. “Copy that, sir.”
He looked at Charlie as they moved again. A silent communication passed between them of the danger involved—a communication made possible by overcoming enough life-and-death situations together to form a bond of dependability.
Charlie nodded. “I got your back. God help you.” Charlie gave him a hard pat on the shoulder. Then as soon as the lights changed and the vehicle moved, Charlie swung it into the lane next to the van. Robert exhaled, relieved that their vehicle was unmarked leaving no way for anyone to know it was a police cruiser unless he blared the siren.
He looked up at the van driver’s face. Something about him struck familiarity, but Robert couldn’t place it. He memorized the face anyway, internalizing its jutting features. Was that an earring on his earlobe? Charlie had now slowed a little to give the van some distance so it moved a bit ahead of them, but he maintained speed.
It took only one yank of his passenger side door, a calculated jump to the stepping platform at the back of the van, and a grip to the back door handle to get Robert onto the back of the van. He yanked at the handle, but it seemed locked from the other end. He tugged harder and called out. “Ritz! Ritz!” The buzz of other vehicles nearly drowned his voice.
Charlie pulled up closer. “Shoot it!”
He meant, shoot the door open, but both of Robert’s hands were engaged to stabilize him on the van. He needed to lean on the edge of it and grasp the side rim to free one hand. But if he did so, he was at the risk of being seen by the driver. He hesitated, caught between wanting the door open and risking being seen. He took a chance.
Stepping closer to the left side, he reached out and gripped the rim, pulling out his gun with his other hand while hugging the van. He shot at the door, but it didn’t open. He shot at it again, desperate. Sparks clanged on impact, and one handle broke off. The silencer muffled the shot, but the handle clattered.
Before he could swing around to open it, the driver made a sharp right turn, lurching Robert over fully to the left. Their eyes met through the mirror, and they glared at each other, his face now fully visible through the mirror. One half of the door parted slightly, revealing Ritz sprawled on the ground as if she was asleep. His heart twisted inside him, but the driver was not waiting for Robert to balance his shaken feet up on the platform again.
The driver mouthed some words, swerved the van hard, almost tumbling it, and completely shook Robert off it onto the street, leading to the screeching of car brakes to a halt to avoid running him over. As he tumbled to the ground, Robert rolled to a stop then jumped to his feet calling out, “Ritz! Ritz!”
CHAPTER SIX
“When I thought how to understand this, it was too painful for me—”- Psalm 73:16
Robert roared her name over and again and chased the van on foot. But human feet couldn’t compare to an engine. He aimed his gun toward the tires but paused from pulling the trigger, fearful of hitting Ritz inside or causing the van to tumble and kill her. He thought he heard a bang or two from the back of the van before it outraced him and faded into the distance.
“Argh!” He crumpled to his knees and pounded the tarred road. Charlie cruised to a stop beside him. He raced toward Robert and helped him up, onto his feet, and led him in a hurry to the cruiser. As they reentered and the chase team caught up, Charlie briefed them, and they pursued the van in the direction it had escaped.
Charlie held Robert back from getting behind the wheel, seizing the keys. Robert was still shaking as he radioed his men. While they chased, he rummaged through his memory for where he had seen the kidnapper’s face before, having gotten a good look this second time around, but he just couldn’t remember.
“Captain, we found the van,” crackled over the radio.
“And?” Robert gripped the dashboard.
“It’s empty. They’ve switched vehicles, and they left something behind.”
His heart fell. Robert was so ripped, he felt like his soul had been torn from him. This was their one lead, their only live lead.
“What did they leave behind?” The words curdled his tongue, bitter to his mouth. He already knew the answer if the kidnapper was a smart man.
“A wristwatch.”
Ritz leaned forward, rising from where she lay
when cold air slammed into her in the back of the van. She had slept off, and the sudden drop in temperature woke her roughly.
Weak, she was almost sure the blow she’d taken to the head earlier caused her excessive drowsiness. Especially, given that she’d eaten not long ago.
Bright light shone on her from the back of the van as it jostled over speed humps into an underground parking lot. Pain radiated across her shoulder where she’d banged at the side of the van about an hour earlier. She yawned, feeling a fever warm her skin as her chin throbbed. Shivers shook her as warmth enveloped her face. Maybe she was imagining the feverish feeling moving up her neck?
The van lurched to a stop, and the man strode into the back of the van and undid her restraints, avoiding eye contact but leaving her mouth taped. He yanked her wristwatch off and tossed it to the side, letting out a few choice cuss words. But she didn’t care about the watch or his fascination with discarding it. She wanted to ask him what he wanted to do with her or why he kidnapped her but could not.
His hands roved over her body, patting her down.
She twisted in resistance. Then he stopped and glared at her, squatting to her eye level. “You have any electronics on you?”
She glared back with a steely gaze.
He clamped her throat with a large hand and spoke through gritted teeth. “I said—do… you… have… anything they use to track us?”
What was he talking about tracking?
This time, she shook her head, and he straightened. “Good. You better not. I have no problem shooting you if the boss said so.”
He led her out of the black van and toward a white van, smaller than the first. She glanced back to memorize the license number just before he led her inside the new van and secured her to the floor. The interior appeared newer than the former, and no connection linked the driver’s area and the back.