Data Capture

by Jesse J. Thoma

  Dubs made a quick lane change and then a hard left turn. Quinn was jerked against her seat belt.

  Maybe I was too quick to give her a pass on her driving skills. “Dubs, what’s going on?” Quinn asked. The niggling fear was back.

  “Fuck trumpets,” Dubs said. “Can you please call Max and ask her for a license plate trace for me?” Dubs relayed the plate number as Quinn dialed. She put the phone in the center console on speaker.

  “Is someone following us?” Quinn asked. She was trying to remain calm. What has my life turned into?

  “I don’t know,” Dubs said. “A car picked us up as soon as we pulled out. They’re staying back, but they seemed to be following us. Now I know they are.”

  Max got back to them with the information they needed. Rental car from the airport. Bogus information given for driver’s license and a corporate credit card that was going to take her a while to track.

  “Come back to the shop,” Max said. “I’ll loop Holt in. Looks like family dinner is going to start late.”

  Dubs didn’t wait for an intersection before flipping an abrupt U-turn. Quinn looked out the driver’s window as she did and spotted the car Dubs had described. It seemed like slow motion as she watched the driver roll down the window and level a gun at the truck. Panic unlike anything she’d ever felt surged through her body. Don’t throw up. Don’t wet yourself. Holy shit, don’t die.

  “Get down,” she said. She pulled Dubs practically into her lap. Bullets peppered the rear quarter panel of the truck. The shots sounded like the firecrackers kids set off in her neighborhood at home, but she could feel the impact of each bullet as it ripped through the metal frame with a metallic tinged pop.

  “Fucking, mouse dicked, cock nosed, piss wizards,” Dubs said, righting herself and slamming down the gas pedal.

  Quinn felt like her heart might beat out of her chest. Her adrenaline was surging and her face felt hot from the rush. She wasn’t sure if she felt fear, excitement, or both. Whatever it was, her body was telling her to go, act, survive, in a big way. Trouble was, she was strapped into a car she had no control over. I didn’t need to know it was possible to level up being scared from the shit-show a few days ago. Please let me survive this.

  “Dubs, Quinn, are you okay?” Max was yelling through the phone. She sounded panicked.

  “We’re here,” Dubs said. She looked over at Quinn and did a quick visual inventory. “Okay might be a stretch, but no one is hurt. I’m not bringing these guys back your way. We need a plan to lose them. I’m assuming you called the cops. What do they say?”

  “Quinn, baby, where are you?” Lola was on the phone now and she didn’t sound good. Quinn could picture exactly how she looked right now, wild with fear, angry, determined to get to her. “I’m coming to get you.”

  “No. You can’t come out here. Lola, listen to me,” Quinn said. She wanted this nightmare to end. She wanted to be out of this truck. She wanted to never be shot at again. But she didn’t want Lola putting herself in jeopardy to make that happen.

  “Quinn, down again,” Dubs said. She pushed Quinn’s head between her knees as gunfire exploded through the back window.

  “Can I get up now?” Quinn asked. She was surprised she hadn’t puked. It seemed that all systems were busy pushing the panic button.

  Dubs nodded. She made a hard right, nearly on two wheels.

  “Fuck that,” Lola said. “Dubs, one scratch before I get there and I’m coming after you.”

  “I’m fine too,” Dubs said. “Thanks for your concern. See you soon. Do we have a plan yet? Because I’m good, but at this speed I don’t have a large margin for error in tight quarters. I’ve got to get out of the city. There are too many people around and these fuck buckets are shooting indiscriminately. Where are the cops?”

  “You’re hitting fifty miles an hour through downtown. They don’t want anything to do with that kind of high-speed pursuit. You as well as anyone know the reason for that rule. Get out of town and you’ll have more help.”

  “Sure,” Dubs said. “The shitflaps are following the rules because it’s me. They’re still salty because of that state trooper SUV I stole last year.”

  Quinn dared look out the window. She expected to see a cruise missile aimed at her head, or a tank with its main gun leveled at them, but she didn’t see anything threatening. Relief flooded her. “I don’t see them. Do you?”

  “No, I think I may have lost the shit nubbins, but I’m not sure. I’m not willing to take a chance—Fuck stick, ass badgers,” Dubs said as the pursuing sedan roared into view. “Where did you come from?”

  Dubs threw the truck into reverse and slammed on the brakes, turning the wheel while she did. Quinn was terrified as the car grew closer to her window. There was no raised gun this time, and the occupants seemed content to ram them.

  “This isn’t really fair to ask, but I only have two hands,” Dubs said. “Do you mind snapping a picture of those two as we pass? Max should be able to use some facial rec to figure out who’s trying to climb into our lap.”

  Quinn heard Lola explode, followed by Holt cursing, but she tuned it out as she waited for the car to get closer. Having something to do felt much better than sitting helplessly in her seat awaiting her fate, even if what Dubs was asking was insane.

  Dubs was executing a rather nifty pirouette to remove her from the direct path of the impact, but she needed them to stay in view just a moment longer. The closer they got the clearer the picture would be.

  When she thought they were as close and as directly in front of her as they were going to be, she snapped the picture. “Smile, fuck waffles,” Quinn said.

  “Nice one,” Dubs said.

  “Your penchant for very creative swearing has apparently had an effect on me,” Quinn said. “Max, picture’s on its way.”

  “Any luck on getting us some backup? What if we head for the state park just up One Forty-six?”

  “Already suggested and approved. Do it,” Holt said. “They asked for ten minutes to set up. Can you hold out that long?”

  “No problem, H. Beautiful day for a drive,” Dubs said. As she said it, she jumped three lanes and dodged into an alley. It was a tight squeeze, and a few trash cans and one of Holt’s side mirrors were casualties of her decision. The sedan didn’t seem inclined to follow, and for the moment they were alone on the road with the normal flow of Providence city traffic.

  “It was a game we played in prison. Scrabble and creative swearing. Sometimes I revert to it when I get stressed.”

  “Jesus Christ, Dubs,” Lola said. She sounded ready to come through the phone to strangle Dubs. “That car is too fucking close. Holt, I’m not staying here. There’s nothing you can do to keep me from getting to her.”

  “Lola,” Quinn said, trying to break through Lola’s worry. “Without Dubs’s superhuman driving just now, neither one of us would be talking to you. Take it down a couple pegs.”

  “She’s gone,” Max said. “Holt was literally holding her in place to keep her from getting to you before. She might have been sitting on her.”

  “Did she take company transportation or her own? Does she have comms?” Dubs asked.

  “Her own. Unless she calls in, she’s on her own. I don’t have a comms link.”

  “Fucking idiot,” Dubs said.

  Quinn didn’t know why Dubs was so angry with Lola, but she could tell she was worried about her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Aside from the piss fidgets shooting at us,” Dubs said. “Your lady has decided to join a gunfight on a fucking motorcycle.”

  The pit of Quinn’s stomach felt like it fell out. She felt tears roll down her cheeks. Lola had said she put her own safety below those she wanted to protect. In theory that sounded noble; even hearing about the scary reality after the fact was okay. But this was real and Quinn was going to have to watch her die.

  “Hey, you guys may not like this very much,” Max said. “But any chance you can get cl
ose to that car again?”

  “Pretty Girl, I thought you liked me without bullet holes.”

  “I expect you to remain bullet free even if I ask you to hop in the car with those two, understood? But facial rec is back and the shooters are from LA and suspected CMC members,” Max said.

  Quinn thought she sounded as scared as Lola. Quinn knew Max had been there when Dubs was shot and had nearly bled to death. She didn’t know how Max was able to make this ask.

  “What do you need from us?”

  “I’m going to use your phone to bluesnarf one of theirs, but I need you to be close. I’ve been working on a little worm. Once it’s on one of their devices it will jump to any other device they text, email, or call. If they’re part of the CMCs we should be able to follow the trail through their phones. Hopefully, it will lead us to our mystery money suppliers.”

  “Is a bluesnarf like Mystique with a head cold?” Dubs asked. She slammed on the brakes as a UPS truck double-parked in front of them. Four cars behind them in the left lane honked loudly as she cut them off.

  “Can you get close enough or not?” Max asked.

  “Of course,” Dubs said. “How close do we need to be?”

  “Fifteen feet, twenty at the most.”

  “No,” Holt said. “Come back to the office and swap me in for Quinn.”

  “I can do it,” Lola said. Apparently, she did have communication capabilities.

  She appeared next to Quinn, alongside the truck on her bike. She looked so exposed. Her only protection was a helmet and a heavy coat, neither of which would stop a bullet.

  “Too dangerous,” Quinn said, surprising herself. “Dubs and I are going to do it. We’ll be fine. Right, Dubs?”

  “Absolutely. Now we just need to find them again.”

  Oh, God. We’re going looking for the guys with guns. What did I agree to? “I’ll leave that to you,” Quinn said. “Lola, please go back. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Look out, Lola,” Dubs said.

  She weaved through slower traffic and made a quick right turn. Quinn didn’t know the landmarks of Providence, but she thought they’d circled back to where they’d last seen the sedan.

  “I’m not leaving, Quinn,” Lola said.

  “If you’re staying, do something useful. Help me find these guys,” Dubs said.

  “For the record, I don’t like you staying, but I realize there’s nothing I can do about it. So let’s find them so we can be done with this. The longer it takes the more scared I am,” Quinn said.

  That seemed to motivate Lola. She shot off ahead of them and down a side street.

  Dubs eased the truck around a corner and stopped. They both looked cautiously up and down the street. Dubs pulled into traffic. No sign of the sedan.

  Dubs circled back toward the shop, retracing their steps, but not getting close enough to put anyone else in danger. Quinn could see Dubs was getting frustrated. She patted her shoulder reassuringly. She didn’t know if she actually wanted to find the sedan or not.

  “Are you two ready?” Lola asked. She rode into view from a cross street. “I think they’re behind—”

  “I think we’re about to—bitchtits. Thunderfuck, hairy shit house, fuck turnip.”

  Dubs unbuckled Quinn’s seat belt and threw her to the floor. Quinn screamed as bullets flew across the truck cab and through the door, right where she’d been sitting. She heard the hissing through the air above her head.

  “Dubs,” Quinn yelled. She didn’t know how Dubs could have survived that.

  “All good,” Dubs said from the floorboard next to her. She had one hand on the steering wheel and one mashed on the gas pedal. As soon as the shooting stopped, or more accurately, as soon as the bullets stopped entering the cab, Dubs slid back into the driver’s seat.

  “Lola, are you okay?” Quinn looked out the truck windows, or what was left of them, trying to catch a glimpse of Lola.

  “My bike’s been hit, but I’m okay,” Lola said. “I thought…Jesus.”

  In the excitement, the phone had fallen under the seat. She retrieved it before pulling herself back into her seat. It sounded like everyone in the office was yelling simultaneously trying to ascertain their status.

  “We’re okay,” Quinn said. “Thanks once again to Dubs. No-look driving is a new one, even for her I’m guessing. Max, can you do your barfing thing?” Quinn didn’t feel scared anymore. She didn’t feel anything. Perhaps this was yet another level of terror, one so all-encompassing it short-circuited her whole system.

  “No,” Max said. “You’re not close enough.”

  “Should I ask them to pull over so we can coordinate the next street for a ‘not close enough’ shootout? How close do we have to be? And for how long?” Dubs asked.

  Max thought she needed about a minute to break into one of the phones and upload her program. That sounded like an eternity in close proximity to gunfire.

  “We’ll see what we can do,” Quinn said. She took the phone off speaker and covered the mouthpiece. “Can we do this without getting killed?”

  “I sure as hell hope so,” Dubs said. “Our friends are back. This is our chance. You ready, Pretty Girl? Lola, I hate to ask, but can you run interference?”

  “All set,” Max said. “Be careful.”

  “Will do.” Lola pulled up alongside them. “Watch yourselves.”

  The sedan approached from behind. Quinn glanced in her side mirror, which remarkably was still attached, and saw one of the two men hanging out the window with his weapon leveled at the truck. She thought about jumping out the window. It seemed safer than what they were about to do.

  “Hang on,” Dubs said.

  Quinn grabbed the handhold above the window and braced herself. Dubs made a rapid lane change and slammed on the brakes. The sedan shot past them. As Dubs was braking, she put the truck into a spin so they were one eighty to where they’d been. As soon as they were facing the opposite direction, she floored the gas again and reversed after the sedan.

  Dubs chased the car and accelerated after it until their bumpers hit. Quinn watched through the shot out back window of the truck. The two men in the sedan seemed unsure how to react to this new development. The driver looked like he was trying to disengage Dubs from his back bumper, and the passenger, for the moment, didn’t seem to remember that he had a weapon he could be using against them as he stared at them like they were insane.

  Their hesitation didn’t last long. The passenger hung out his window and took aim once again, spraying bullets at the truck. Quinn and Dubs ducked down to avoid those that sprayed high enough to reach the cab. Lola roared in on the passenger’s side. She had her helmet in her hand now, and swung it at the shooter. She got him in the shoulder, which stopped his shooting momentarily. He took aim at Lola, and Quinn was certain her heart stopped as she watched the two tussle over the gun while streaking down the road.

  Lola jabbed her helmet at the shooter again, connecting with his nose. Quinn saw blood splatter through the air. He tried to take aim at Lola again, but she pushed the barrel of the gun skyward and his shot flew off target.

  “Get out of there, Lola,” Dubs said. “He’s not going to keep missing.”

  Dubs had put into words what Quinn had been unable to express. She’d been watching Lola using a motorcycle helmet to fight off an automatic weapon and she’d felt almost nothing, though she couldn’t speak. Maybe she’d overloaded her panic circuits. Or maybe it was self-preservation.

  “If I can get that gun away from him, we all stand a better chance out here,” Lola said.

  Unfortunately, the driver didn’t seem to like Lola’s interference. He pulled out a gun too and trained it on Lola over his buddy’s shoulder.

  “Shit,” Lola said.

  The driver lost focus on the road and swerved so erratically Lola had to correct hard to stay upright.

  With the swerving, Dubs was having trouble keeping the truck in contact with the sedan.

 
“How much longer, Max?” Dubs asked.

  “Twenty-five seconds,” Max said.

  “Too long,” Dubs said. She depressed the brake again and let the sedan speed away. She stayed close, but out of shooting range. “H, do you still have a baseball bat in this truck?”

  “Out of range,” Max said.

  “Of course,” Holt said. “They aren’t that good against guns, though.”

  “You haven’t seen me use it,” Dubs said. “Quinn can you dig the bat out? Behind the seat, right?”

  Quinn didn’t like where this was going, but she did as asked. She didn’t like getting shot at either, but there didn’t seem to be much choice in that particular matter today. Dubs was a lot of things, but she didn’t seem reckless. If she had an idea, Quinn was willing to hear her out. It wasn’t like she could ask her to pull over and get out anyway.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Gotta get rid of those semiautomatics,” Dubs said. “We’ve only got one more chance at this, I’m guessing, and I’m going to need your help so I don’t get shot. You in?”

  “Why not,” Quinn said.

  “Remember, wait until he comes out of the car to shoot, then ram him,” Dubs said. “He’ll pop back in if he knows what’s good for him. Just don’t hit it too hard or they’ll bounce too far. Just a love tap. When he pops back out, I’ll get him. That’ll be one down. As long as the driver learned his lesson from that last multitasking experiment, Max can do her bluefarting thing. Lola, you’re on backup with the driver in case he gets frisky, right? Keep him focused on you.”

  “Got you covered,” Lola said. “But I’d rather you gave the bat to me and let me handle this.”

  “Of course you would,” Dubs said. She was chasing after the sedan, which was now driving wildly, looking like it was trying to escape them. “But you’ve got fuckall for protection. I’ve got a truck that weighs more than your bike or their sedan and a better plan than yours. Not that helmet whack-a-mole wasn’t fun to watch.”

  “Right, simple, piece of cake,” Quinn said.

  “I don’t like this plan either, Dubs,” Holt said. “You’re both too exposed.”