Chasing the Captain

by Terry Shepherd

  “The clock is ticking, Lee. The bad guys took their shot at us when they did for a reason. Someone thinks we have enough of the puzzle to solve this thing. If we wait for your official channels to spin the gears, we may miss something important.”

  “You are not suggesting that we freestyle an engagement with the people in flat 404.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” Jessica said it over her shoulder as she pressed the entire line of doorbells for every flat in the building. “Here’s hoping somebody buzzes us in. There’s a security camera. Show your shield. That usually does the trick.”

  Lee did. A moment later, there was a soft magnetic click, and the door to 75 Charlton Street swung open.

  There was no response when they knocked on the door at flat 404.

  “I guess we wait,” Lee said.

  Jess was already jogging down the hall toward the fire escape. “The hell we do. Follow me.”

  A moment later, she was on the external iron staircase that gave residents safe passage in case the danger blocked the elevators or the main stairway. Jess was counting the number of balconies between the fire escape and flat 404.

  “One, two… three. That’s the one. Come on, I think this ledge is wide enough to give us a foothold.”

  “Is this how they do things at your department in the States?”

  Jess was already pressing her fingers between the bricks. “Sometimes you have to improvise, Lee. It feels like there isn’t much time, and we need to see what’s inside that flat. Forcing the cheap locks on the balcony slider will be easier than busting down the front door. And it will draw a lot less attention.”

  Jess slid along the thin concrete facing that stuck out about six inches from the red brick wall, her fingers jammed in between the bricks and the thin layer of cement that held everything together.

  Lee hesitated. “I have a thing about heights, Jessica.”

  “So did I. Just imagine your life depends upon getting to that balcony. And don’t look down.”

  Lee followed Jess, sticking like glue to the side of the building until they clawed their way onto the balcony of flat 404.

  Opening the slider was easy for Jess. She flipped the lock open with a credit card. Ten minutes after debarking from their taxi, Lee and Jess stood in the darkness inside 75 Charlton Street—flat 404.

  Nobody was home. But whoever lived there had recently left. A half-smoked cigarette still glowed in an ashtray, and the indentations on the couch felt warm to the touch.

  “We just missed ‘em,” Jess said, crushing the butt. “Cigarettes are a dirty habit. And the damn things start fires.”

  “I think you just fouled up a crime scene with your fingerprints, Jessica. Unless you plan to take the butt with you.”

  “The only butts I care about are ours. What’s out of place?”

  The flat seemed to be normal until Jess inspected the wastebaskets.

  “Ahh! Pay dirt!” Jess held up a crumpled scrap of paper. They had to take it to the edge of the balcony to make out what had been written on it in the dim illumination from the streetlights below.

  London St-Pancras to Paris Gare du Nord—2200

  Lee checked her watch. “That’s the Chunnel Train. It departs in thirty-four minutes.”

  Jess moved toward the front door to the flat. Something stopped her. “Best to go back the way we came. There may be security cameras in the hallway. I’ve already dirtied up your crime scene enough.”

  “I don’t know where you get your brass monkeys, Jessica. The prospect of falling four stories to the pavement has me cocked up.”

  Jess scampered back onto the fire escape. “Oh, I can’t stand heights, either. But I learned that if you concentrate, you can keep fear in the box for just enough time to do what you need to do.”

  “Is that something they teach you at the police academy?”

  Jess shook her head. “I learned it in the real world, chasing after someone who tried to kill me. Nothing focuses you like imminent death.”

  There were sirens in the distance, and they were getting louder with each passing moment. By the time the two were back on the fire escape, there were four street units and a van full of special weapons personnel on the street below.

  It was too dark for them to see anyone on the fire escape.

  “Ahh,” Jess said. “So, there are others interested in 75 Charlton Street, too.”

  The vehicles discharged their human contents. Police officers with weapons at the ready entered the building. Lee could hear them mounting the stairs. Incredibly, nobody remained with their vehicles.

  The two stepped down from their own stairway to heaven as quietly as the iron would allow. “We should tell them that we’re here,” Lee said.

  Jess waved her away.

  “We just finished breaking and entering,” she whispered. “I don’t think you want to have to explain that.”

  It was a warm enough night that windows were open. Jess could hear the army of boots reach the 4th floor and a single voice shouting, “Police! Open the door now!”

  Jess pulled Lee away from the excitement and toward St. Pancras Station. There were less than twenty minutes to catch the train.

  Even from a distance, they could both hear the battering ram.

  And then, the entire east-facing of 75 Charlton Street disintegrated in a concussive, blinding flash.

  36

  Greenhill’s Apple Store—Nashville

  Alexandra Clark was grateful to have some money left on one of her credit cards. It was enough to put a smile on the face of the young nerd at the Greenhill’s Apple Store. If they were handing out commissions, a top-of-the-line MacBook Pro and the latest iPhone would augment hers.

  It would take a while to reload everything from the cloud. The first thing Ali did was have the girl send the destruct code to the gear she assumed was now in the bad guy’s possession. The minute they powered things up, everything on the devices would vaporize.

  “Okay if I borrow your phone for a second to call somebody?”

  The girl had no problem with that. Ali had made her day.

  She dialed the DC number she knew by heart. Ali turned away from the associate, whispering as Michael Wright answered the call.

  “Michael? Your boys didn’t get their new orders. They tried apprehending me, and a pair of bad guys killed them both.”

  “Shit.”

  Michael didn’t cuss. Both Ali and Jess considered this one of his shortcomings. Dropping an S-bomb meant there was a fresh dirt clod in his punchbowl.

  “Where are you now? Are you OK? Have you contacted Jessica?”

  “I’m fine, Michael. Your colleagues relieved me of my technology, so I’m just now getting back on the grid. Do you still want me to go back to my hotel and wait to be rescued?”

  “No. Change in plan. Get out of Nashville as soon as you can. I don’t care where you go, but don’t go back to Paloma. It’s not safe for you there. If you have your passport on you, try Cabo or maybe Bermuda. Whatever you do, lie low and don’t use any technology with Wi-Fi or cellular data.”

  “What are you telling me, Michael? You weren’t able to call off the good guys?”

  “It’s not that, Ali. We’re not talking about it publicly, but someone has hacked the cellular data network. We can’t be certain, but we think the hackers can triangulate where you are the same way we would. Stay off the grid and go underground. If you can figure out a secure Wi-Fi connection and hide your IP address, check your signal messenger when you’ve found your hideout. I’ll contact you when the coast is clear.”

  Ali’s fuse was burning. With all she had seen and experienced, her anger was barely under control. “What the fuck is going on, Michael?”

  “The less you know, the better. Now get off this line. If they can read my packets, they might trace them to you. Please trust me on this, Ali. Disappear.”

  With that, Michael rang off.

  It was time to bring Jessica up to speed. />
  It relieved Ali to hear Jessica’s voice. She tried to sound more under control than she felt.

  “Hey, partner. How’s tricks?”

  Jessica sounded breathless. She was walking or running some place.

  “An interesting evening in London, partner. My Yelp review of the Wellington Pub won’t be all that great.”

  “Jesus! That’s on the news over here. They are saying it’s a terrorist thing.”

  “It may well be. Whoever those guys were, they were professionals.”

  “Past tense? Are you telling me you discharged a weapon in the United Kingdom without credentials?”

  “It was us or them, Ali. And my friend, Lee, is a pretty good shot for not being allowed to carry. What’s happening in Music City?”

  “There are way too many people playing harps over here. First, the DA. Then the two FBI boys who came after me. There were two bad guys, I think they may have been Russians, who did that deed.”

  “Let me guess…”

  “Yup. I terminated their visas. This is some serious shit, partner. I’m worried about you.”

  The excitement in Jessica’s voice jumped a notch. “I think we’re getting close to Culpado’s wife. We found intel that suggests she might be taking a train to the continent tonight.”

  For once, Ali was truly worried about her partner. “If I were you, I’d let her go. Your boyfriend in DC is telling me to blow the country, find some third-world resort, and lie low until he gives the word. Whoever they are dealing with is sophisticated and has lots of resources, including wet teams and hackers who can pinpoint exactly where you are.”

  Ali could hear Jessica picking up the pace. “I’ve seen them in action. So, what are your plans, partner? I know you are one of those weird birds who travel with your passport. Heading someplace sunny?”

  The Apple girl gave Ali a wave and made a circle in the air with her index finger. “It’s ready,” she whispered.

  “Still thinking about that. Just so you know, Michael says to stop what you’re doing and hide out somewhere until the FBI can get the heat under control.”

  “He’s so sexy when he worries about me.”

  “This is serious, Jessica.”

  “Are you telling me to give it up after we’ve come this far?”

  “You know I’m not. Just be careful. I’m not there to rescue you.”

  “Do what Michael advises, Ali. I’m sorry I brought all of this mierda down on top of you. I can handle myself.”

  The Apple girl produced a white bag with Ali’s toys inside.

  Her eyes caught something by the front door that made Ali look. A cop was there, scanning the patrons. When he saw Ali, he tensed up.

  Time to ring off with Jessica.

  “Gotta go, partner. Keep your head down.”

  There was no upside in trying to bolt, so Alexandra Clark walked up to the police officer and smiled her best fake heterosexual smile.

  “You look like you could use some companionship.”

  “Officer Alexandra Clark?”

  “See? I knew we were a match made in heaven.”

  “You’re under arrest. Let’s step outside of the store.”

  Damn. Could this get any worse?

  Every supposed good guy today who had crossed her path had been killed. Did this cop have a wife? Kids? Ali wanted to ask him. But she began to wonder who was real and who was acting. For now, she would follow orders.

  He parked his squad car in the fire lane, the blue lights were flashing, and the motor was running.

  “Put down the bag and put your hands on the hood of the vehicle.”

  Ali complied. “You’re not making a very good first impression, Mr. Wonderful.”

  “I hope I’m making a professional impression, Officer Clark. I’m sure you would extend the same courtesy if I were in your jurisdiction. Hands on the hood, please, and spread your legs.”

  He was calm and professional. Ali couldn’t help but like the guy.

  “When a man says, ‘spread your legs,’ I almost wish I weren’t a lesbian.”

  There was another gunshot. The cop dropped like a stone.

  The sound seemed to come from the corner behind the cop. Ali grabbed her bag, dove to the pavement and scampered around to the driver’s side of the vehicle. A second shot shattered the right passenger window as she slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Never leave your keys in the car!” Ali could hear Lou Harrison screaming the words on her first day on the force.

  She was glad her late benefactor didn’t follow the rules.

  Dropping the tranny into drive, Ali slammed the gas pedal to the floor as another two shots rang out.

  Whoever was doing the firing wasn’t on his game. She could see collateral damage as a pedestrian on the other side of the street fell to the ground.

  The shooter emerged from cover in her rearview mirror. A silver Chevy picked him up, accelerating to catch up with her.

  Ali grabbed the microphone and keyed up the radio.

  “Dispatch, this is Officer Alexandra Clark of the Paloma, Illinois, Police Department. One of two men, who are pursuing your vehicle in a gray Chevrolet Malibu, license plate unknown, has just shot the officer assigned to it. I am westbound on Abbot Martin Road, crossing Sugar Tree Place. Requesting EMS at the Greenhill’s Apple Store and backup.”

  37

  St. Pancras Station—London

  Lee and Jess made it to St. Pancras with minutes to spare. There was no problem bypassing security. That worried Jess.

  “Relationships,” Lee said as they moved toward track one, where the sleek train was waiting. “When you’ve done favors, there is always a return on the investment.”

  Jess wasn’t so sure. Communication was almost instantaneous these days. Maddox had to have connected the dots between the two cops and the Wellington incident by now. By rights, they should be in handcuffs.

  The terminal was crawling with police. Either they had been told to leave Jess and Lee alone, or the women must have looked like innocuous tourists. Nobody gave a second glance at Jess and Lee. They slipped into the train just as the doors closed for departure.

  The two cops had eluded capture for the moment. Or was something else going on?

  The text message ringtone on Jessica’s phone sang out. It was about time. Ali was overdue with an update.

  She didn’t recognize the number. But Lee did. Her boss had found them.

  NEW ORDERS: FIND AND PROTECT MARIE CULPADO AT ALL COSTS. USE OF FIREARMS IS APPROVED. EQUIPMENT UNDER SEAT B15—FIRST CARRIAGE. MADDOX.

  Jess squinted at Lee. “I feel like I’m naked and your boss is watching me shower.”

  “Welcome to the 21st century, Jessica. We can’t hide as long as we carry our technology in our pockets.”

  “‘Use of firearms is approved.’ Is that James Bond for ‘license to kill’?”

  Lee was already on the move. “Something like that.”

  “What did he mean when he said, “Equipment under Seat B15?”

  Lee smiled. “Come see. I think you’re going to like what we find.”

  38

  Nashville

  “Dispatch to Officer Clark. Turn right on Estes Road. Units will pick you up at Woodmont Blvd.”

  Where in the hell was Estes Road? Ali saw the sign in time and swerved right.

  The squad car’s rear window shattered into thousands of safety glass shards. Ali could see the shooter hanging out of the Malibu’s passenger window. The bastard had a shotgun.

  He racked another round as she skidded onto Estes Road. Her 45 semi-auto wouldn’t be accurate at this speed. But Ali had to make them pay for damaging city property.

  “Always shoot the driver.” Lou Harrison’s voice was yelling at her again from the past. “A snake stops chasing you if you cut the head off.”

  With her left hand on the steering wheel, Ali turned toward the rear to get a relative aim before squeezing the trigger.

  She loved the Smi
th and Wesson’s reassuring kick when it went to work. The weapon provided a wonderful, false sense of security that your aim will be better than the sixty-six percent of cops who miss what they are shooting at.

  Ali put a nice hole in the bad guys’ windshield, wide to the left of the driver. Wide enough to wing the guy with the shotgun in his left shoulder.

  I like it when my screw-ups make me look like I know what I’m doing.

  The hollow point’s velocity twisted his torso, and he lost his grip on the shotgun. Ali smiled. It felt good to see the weapon bounce like a receding toothpick in the rearview mirror.

  At least now they were hopefully pinging each other with equally inaccurate weapons.

  Woodmont should be coming up soon, wherever the hell Woodmont was. The two cop cars gave her an idea. One blocking the north, the other blocking the west. They obviously wanted Ali to turn east.

  Being relatively compliant when not given a choice, she made the turn on two wheels.

  She saw the brother in the unit north of the intersection standing behind his driver's side door with a 12-gauge pump of his own. He had the benefit of solid ground and something stable on which to steady his weapon.

  The blast shattered what was left of the Malibu’s windshield. Ali watched the scene through her rearview mirror. Shit. The driver had skills and made the turn, anyway.

  Without glass between them, both perps started emptying their handguns straight ahead in Ali’s direction.

  It was hard to speed up when she was weaving back and forth to avoid getting shot. Ali was thankful for the two units that were now giving chase to the Chevy. It forced the driver to follow suit.

  She only hoped that the cops who were shooting at them didn’t hit her. Ali had an uncomfortable sense that their orders didn’t include her safety.