Chasing Gold

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Chasing Gold Page 9

by David Leadbeater


  Now, the first merc took a long deep breath to calm his voice before replying. “On my life… I promise to be a gentleman.”

  It was pure gold for Crouch. Terri had enforced the stop just a few steps away from the front window, but slightly around a corner. All Crouch had to do was twist, remove a flyer, and start scribbling. He did it carefully, barely out of sight, still able to watch Terri who would hopefully warn him or react if things suddenly went sideways.

  The flyer was perfect.

  The wording and writing took just a few seconds.

  Terri glared at the first merc, looking highly uncomfortable. “You promise?”

  A waitress wandered over to them now, gaining even more attention from the mercs. Crouch loved it. They had fashioned an opportunity out of nothing.

  A golden opportunity. He smirked at the bad joke.

  Once the waitress departed, Terri saw Crouch’s thumbs up. With a flounce she spun away and walked briskly toward the restrooms. Shaking their heads, the mercs followed, only now glancing back to ensure Crouch was with them.

  Five minutes later, they were back outside.

  Crouch saw that another vehicle had pulled up alongside their own; a large black station wagon with intimidating fenders at the front, bright chrome side steps and fully tinted windows. The rear door opened to reveal just a single man that stepped out briskly to confront the mercs Crouch already knew.

  “Well met. It this all of you?”

  “Yes, sir. We reported the unanticipated amount of trouble.”

  “You reported trouble. Not carnage. Now, I’m really gonna have to order up some more men.” He shook his head. “Fucking idiots.” He pulled out a cellphone. “These the prisoners?”

  “Yes, sir,” the merc gritted.

  Crouch studied the new arrival; the so-called boss. He was tall, six-foot-six at least, with dark black hair and a thick beard. He spoke with an American accent but now shouted into the phone in some form of Arabic. His appearance, his demeanor, spoke more and more toward this being a terrorist event.

  And more was coming, including the sale of both thieves and whatever Crouch’s finale might be. If they knew he was ex-army, it would not be good.

  “More men will meet us at the next stop,” the boss said, and then came around to stand in front of his prisoners. “My name is Omar. You are mine now, and I will do whatever I wish with you. It has been easy so far with these buffoons, yes? Not anymore. Get in the car. You will speak when I allow it; move when I permit. You will breathe because I give you my leave. Even the slightest deviation will result in the removal of digits. Am I clear?”

  Crouch headed for the car.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Alicia stared out of the car window as it sped through the outskirts of Cincinnati, before negotiating slower roads, traffic lights and wide junctions. Austin was driving, and took every liberty he could think of, annoying the locals and attracting a chorus of honks from other drivers. Nevertheless, he didn’t slow down, tearing along the roads and often squealing around corners. Alicia clung on with white knuckles, heart pounding, desperate to get a look at the restaurant even if just to make sure they were on the right track. Russo believed they had caught up by at least two hours, but nobody could be sure. It was all conjecture at this point.

  At last, Old Rybolt Road appeared, forcing all the car’s occupants to sit up. Alicia primed her weapon, along with the others. They were ready for anything, hoping that the mercenaries may have taken full meals at the eatery.

  Austin drove slowly past the restaurant as Russo, Caitlyn and Alicia scrutinized every parked automobile. It was just past 6 p.m. now, so the lot was busy. Alicia decided they would have to pull in and split up, move fast and with purpose.

  Austin parked, and the team were out, walking hurriedly among the cars. The evening air was warm, still, and replete with the aroma of cooked meat mixed with exhaust fumes. People sat in their cars, chatting or swiping at their phone screens in pre- or post-dinner rituals. It took Alicia three minutes of investigation to determine that, out of the thirty cars present, none contained their quarry.

  Russo came to the same conclusion, now gliding up to her right shoulder.

  “No luck.”

  “Me too. Bollocks.”

  “You think he got a chance to leave a clue?”

  Alicia made a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, taking her time. “All I see is the steakhouse. C’mon, just watch my back.”

  With Russo on guard, Alicia, Caitlyn and Austin headed swiftly toward the mostly brown painted restaurant, taking care to recon the thick bushes that stood outside and to their right. The door was a single panel, heavy, and opened with difficulty. Alicia saw dark paneled walls, floors and low lighting. Most of the seats were filled and the sound of loud conversation hit them first. Alicia noticed the restrooms to the right straight away.

  “Look for gold,” she reminded them. “Anything you can find.”

  She found nothing, meeting Russo just a few minutes later back at the lobby.

  “Even checked every word of graffiti,” he complained. “Found bloody nothing.”

  Alicia nodded as Caitlyn agreed. Together, they took a long look around the restaurant, ignoring the waitress and patrons, before meeting once more near the lobby. As two more waitresses approached, Alicia produced a photo of Crouch and the two thieves.

  “We’re looking for friends,” she said. “Have you seen these people?”

  The first shook her head without taking much of a look; clearly uninterested in anything but closing time. The second narrowed her eyes and nodded.

  “Yeah, they came in earlier. It was just after my shift started — about four hours ago. Used the toilet and left.”

  Alicia didn’t have to hide her despair. “Four hours?”

  “Did they say where they were going?” Austin asked the key question.

  The waitress shook her head. “No, just used the restrooms…” She paused. “The lady though… she didn’t seem happy at first. Almost caused a scene. But then everything was okay.” She shrugged.

  Alicia thanked her and turned away. Together, they left the restaurant, standing outside as the sun dropped away and grayness started to infiltrate the sunset. Lamps lit up all around the parking lot. Alicia stared out, across the tops of the cars and toward distant skies.

  Crouch was out there, somewhere.

  “They were here.”

  Russo also stared at the dying sunset. “But where to now?”

  Alicia fought off a feeling of helplessness. She would never give up. Most of her life had revolved around moving on, moving forward, chasing a better future. It was in her blood, in her being. And surrender was not a word she recognized. She had lost count of the number of times Michael Crouch had helped her out in the past. She would be there for him now.

  She turned to Russo, and saw the gold right behind him.

  “Now that’s brilliant,” she gasped and then laughed. “Can’t believe we missed this, guys.”

  The restaurant’s side window was festooned with local flyers, advertising a martial arts club, a gym and several other social activity centers. The one that caught her eye though was a yellowing piece of photographic paper, perhaps once gold, and entitled Goldfingers.

  “Crouch, you beauty.”

  She moved in on the window and the flyer. It was a leaflet advertising a strip club — only 3.1 miles away! — and comprised the silhouette of a dancer leaning against a pole wearing a top hat and carrying an umbrella. Opening times and discounts were scattered around the page but it was the single line scrawled across the middle that caught Alicia’s eye.

  “AM,” she read aloud. “Here is your Busch and Cardinals, a home of gateways and ashes, and so to rest at Black Jack before Eagle Springs makes us fly.”

  A surge of excitement rushed through her body. Yes! We’re on the bloody trail, all right! It was the first real confirmation, breaking through her wall of sadness. If they’d made up two hours to
this clue, they could make up even more to the next.

  “We have it,” Russo exulted. “The only problem is… what the hell does it mean?”

  “Some US city and place,” Caitlyn said. “It has to be. Just get in the car and we’ll figure it out on the way.”

  “Which way?” Austin said practically. “No point steaming off in the wrong direction.”

  “Kid has a point,” Alicia said, taking a photo of the flyer. “C’mon.”

  They all headed back to the car and squeezed inside. Darkness pressed against the glass now, so they turned on the interior lights, grabbed food and bottles of drink, and tried to figure out the next clue.

  “Not sure what he means about my bush,” Alicia started with. “Bit rude that. And what’s he mean by my ‘cardinal’? Is that slang for something even smuttier?”

  Caitlyn shook her cellphone to catch attention. “It’s addressed to you, Alicia, but not about you. Busch is spelt with a ‘c’, and is the name of a brewing company. The Cardinals are a baseball team, that plays at Busch stadium and are owned by several Buschs. They’re headed to St. Louis.”

  Austin needed no urging to start the car and program the satnav. Within a minute he was heading out, twin headlight beans cutting through the night. Alicia sat back, ready to study the rest of the clues as Caitlyn did the same.

  “It’s a five-hour drive,” Austin told them. “At least, to St Louis.”

  “Step on it, kid,” Russo said unnecessarily.

  Austin was already tearing up the road, eliciting honks and angry stares. Very quickly, he’d managed to plot a route that took them away from the worst of the traffic. It occurred to Alicia then that their quarry most likely hadn’t thought of doing that.

  Even better.

  More time saved. The gap was closing. Austin was pushing it at every opportunity, which was impressive. Happy with that she read the rest of the clue to herself.

  A home of gateways and arches. And so to rest at Black Jack before Eagle Springs makes us fly.

  Even she knew about the St Louis gateway arch, the hugely impressive monument that stood 630 feet high and was clad in stainless steel. Caitlyn now informed her it was the world’s tallest arch and the tallest man-made monument in the western hemisphere. The Gateway Arch then, it made sense.

  She stared out into the dark night. “Hang on, Michael,” she whispered for herself. “We’re coming. We’re bloody coming.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Caitlyn hadn’t forgotten about the authorities’ lack of presence at the steakhouse and soon got on to Merriweather. The FBI agent was incredibly displeased, promising to come down hard on those that hadn’t acted. Caitlyn explained that what happened next was all that mattered and told him she’d let him know a precise location as soon as they had it. Merriweather promised not only men, but helicopters too.

  “Things are looking up,” Caitlyn said. “Now they’ve got their precious capital sorted, they can concentrate on the rest of the country.”

  Alicia saw that the young girl was fretting and not for the banner. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re closing in.”

  “What worries me is how far they’re going.”

  Alicia tended to agree. “We have to assume Crouch believes it’ll end in America. Otherwise, he’d have told us.”

  “Unless he hasn’t had the chance.”

  “Maybe.”

  Alicia waited for Caitlyn to delve further into the clues. Eventually, the black-haired woman came up with a theory.

  “All right, here we go. Black Jack is a town outside St Louis and Eagle Springs is a golf course situated near that town. I’m assuming they’re going to rest in the town of Black Jack and then head to the golf course to… fly.”

  “Choppers?” Austin asked.

  “Good assumption,” Caitlyn said. “Unless they have jet packs.”

  “Fly to where?” Russo wondered.

  Caitlyn tapped her screen in frustration. “Could be anywhere. St Louis is almost in the center of North America. There’s no guessing where they’ll go from there.”

  Alicia slapped the back of Austin’s seat. “C’mon, kid. Get your foot down. I doubt even Crouch is gonna be able to leave us a clue in the middle of a bloody golf course.”

  Austin complained that he was practically making them fly, but then sped up appreciably as a well-lit piece of dual asphalt opened up ahead. The engine roared loudly, the tires rumbling over the blacktop. Cars pulled out of their way or were overtaken, undertaken or practically shoved to the side of the road. Austin was taking no prisoners, barely slowing for junctions and traffic signals. The night was fully on them now; sunset had passed as quickly as sand streaming through their fingers. Time was being stolen; hours lost. They pursued and shadowed their quarry doggedly, as best they could, speeding down the straighter roads and hanging on when the bends grew sharp.

  The miles flew by.

  But so did the hours.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Still the miles raced past as midnight became a memory and a full moon began to pick out the approaching town of Black Jack.

  Surely, they were now just a few hours behind, Alicia assumed. Two or three? Sometime during the night, they had been contacted by an offshoot of the St Louis police and assured a detachment of men and a helicopter would be made available. Eagle Springs golf course was being staked out.

  Nothing to report yet.

  Alicia sat on the edge of her seat, unable to relax. The long hours were torturous. Even compartmentalizing Crouch’s constant danger and the threat to the Star-Spangled Banner didn’t help much. Austin guided the car into the small city of Black Jack, rolling down a wide single roadway dissected by twin yellow lines. Clean looking shops and stores stood on both sides of the road. The entire place was well lit, the sidewalks empty in the early morning. Austin followed the route to the golf course, driving straight past before allowing Caitlyn to contact the local law enforcement.

  “No signs of life,” the man reported. “And no newcomers in town today either. All hotels, motels, hostels checked. Could be in one of the trailer parks I guess, or just stopped in the woods.”

  Alicia imagined the man shrugging helplessly. “More likely that they have friends in the area,” she said. “Do you have anyone on the watch list living around here?”

  “Nope. If they’re helping these guys they’ve been keeping low until now.”

  Alicia believed it. The op had been so carefully planned all along that whoever was in charge wouldn’t risk using a known criminal. They’d be doubly careful.

  “Is that chopper ready?”

  “Fuelled and waiting.”

  “We have to assume they’re resting somewhere around here,” Caitlyn said. “Just keep your eyes open.”

  The officer clicked off without saying a word. Alicia knew he’d be feeling patronized, but in a mission as important as this she didn’t care. For a woman who’d been suspicious of her boss in recent adventures, she sure as hell missed having him around now. In truth, she was beginning to feel guilty about those suspicions. Everyone strayed a little — didn’t matter how perfect or coddled or capable you were. The world was designed to make you stray.

  Redemption rested in how quickly you made it back to real life, and all its obligations.

  She checked her watch. It was a little after four, and she was heavy eyed. Maybe they should take this opportunity to get a little sleep. They couldn’t just drive around the city hoping to see a golden candle in the window.

  She suggested it. They stopped and pulled over. The car ticked itself silent as first Russo, then the others stood watch in turn. Alicia ate fruit and energy bars, and drank water when it came to her stint, and watched dawn break out on the far horizon, just a blush of deep yellow brightening the dark skies.

  The onset of dawn came with something else. A low whump that could have been anything at this distance, but to Alicia’s trained ear was gunfire.

  Russo jerked awake. “What’s t
hat?”

  It was the soldier’s trained reaction. Alicia shook the other two into consciousness. “Something’s happening, guys. Let’s get into that golf course.”

  Austin wiped his mouth and eyes and switched on the car. Caitlyn coughed and drank water as it sped off, spilling the contents into her lap. Alicia took hold of her gun.

  They rounded a bend with both sides of the road hidden by high trees. The entrance was about fifty meters ahead. Austin spun the wheel hard and jabbed at the gas pedal to take a sliding arc off the road and into the driveway, making gravel spit up from the sides of their tires. The gravel road inclined steadily up ahead, the rise blocking any view they might yet have of the golf course.

  Alicia sat forward again, hands clasped around Austin’s headrest. Slowly, the terrain came into sight.

  The golf course spread out to both sides, hillocks and humps, dips and valleys, with tiny white sticks and flags marking the various holes. A clubhouse stood some way to the right, a single-story brick building with many windows, situated so that it could look out over the grounds. Behind it stood what appeared to be a small lodge, a place where golfers could mingle, drink… and perhaps stay the night.

  “I bet they didn’t check the bloody golf club lodge,” she said.

  Six cars were parked in front of the lodge, but they weren’t the focus of her attention. It was the course itself, somewhere close to the first hole, where three police officers knelt, guns out and sighted at something just a hundred meters in front of them.

  Austin drove closer, ignoring the road now and bouncing over the grass.

  Alicia saw them up ahead. They were scrambling and crawling between two small hills and the dip in between, where another flag was situated. She saw three mercs at first, then a fourth and another figure she thought might be Terri Lee. It was too far and too quick, but the cops appeared to have them pinned down.

  “Faster!” she shouted. “Drive faster!”

  The car bounced, the wheels spun hard. The cops turned around and one took aim, but then appeared to recognize the vehicle and re-joined his colleagues, focused on the mercs. Alicia could see four or five at a time — none were firing their weapons now — and guessed there had to be at least eight.

 

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