Run and Hide

by Alan McDermott

  The captain shrugged. “If they have the correct paperwork, it’s out of my hands.”

  Colback let out a frustrated sigh and glanced to his right. The exit was tantalizingly close. He could either wait here for someone to fax over his death warrant or make a move. He saw no other officers in the lobby, so now was the time.

  He shuffled his feet as if anxious, subtly maneuvering himself closer to Wills, then struck with lightning speed. As Wills fell to a blow to his temple, his partner went for a weapon, but Colback whipped a foot into his groin and, as the man bent double, grabbed the back of his head and brought his knee up to meet the man’s face.

  Colback didn’t pause to study his handiwork. He dashed for the exit and out into an artificial twilight, the sun descending beyond the skyscrapers. This was as far ahead as he’d planned. He needed transportation, a way out of the immediate area and ultimately away from New York.

  Perhaps even the United States itself.

  He ran to the end of the block, his gait normal thanks to the custom-made orthopedic shoe he was wearing. Ahead, he finally saw a subway station, but now he faced more than a couple of guys in an SUV: New York’s finest would be launching a manhunt for him too. If he took the subway, they’d have officers waiting at every station.

  A deep buzzing sound made him turn, and he saw a black motorcycle heading toward him. The rider skidded to a halt next to him and flipped up the visor.

  Colback stopped in his tracks and stared at the woman dressed head to toe in a black leather one-piece. He’d never seen eyes like hers. They looked like emeralds, the brightest green he’d ever seen, and the shape hinted at Asian ancestry. He was so lost in them that he didn’t realize she was shouting at him.

  “Get on!” the woman repeated.

  Colback glanced back at the station and saw half a dozen cops charging at him, and he didn’t need a third invitation. He leaped onto the back and threw his arms around her slim waist as she revved the bike and shot them across the intersection.

  Colback soon lost his bearings as the rider weaved between vehicles, barely slowing when she made a left or right turn. All he could do was hold on tight and lean when she did. Sirens seemed to converge from every direction as the rider turned down a street. Colback thought she was going to drive them into a store, but instead she headed for a down ramp into a parking garage.

  The bike roared through the concrete cavern and stopped at the farthest end. The rider kicked down the stand and Colback jumped off.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Later,” the woman said, removing her helmet. Jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and once again Colback could only stare.

  She was stunningly beautiful, but not in a conventional way. She had the slightest of overbites and her top lip rose at the center. Her nose also seemed a little pointed, but her imperfections somehow came together to create the most captivating face Colback had ever seen.

  She took a key from her pocket and pressed a button to unlock the ancient Nissan sedan parked next to them. She opened the trunk. “Get in.”

  Colback looked at her as if she were crazy, but the woman ignored his gaze and unzipped the leathers, revealing a plain white T-shirt. It was drenched in sweat and stuck to her, accentuating the curves of her body.

  “Last chance,” she said as she pushed the leather one-piece down to her ankles and stepped out of it. Her legs gleamed with perspiration. “Get in the trunk or you’re on your own.”

  Salvation stood in front of him, wearing only a T-shirt and navy briefs.

  Colback shook his head. “I’ve just had the craziest thirty minutes of my life. I’m not about to make it worse by getting into the trunk of this piece of shit.”

  She took two steps toward him, her face inches from his. Colback could make out a hint of perfume behind the scent of sweat and leather.

  “The people chasing you. What are their capabilities?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Exactly. So we assume they have satellite coverage, or at least CCTV with facial recognition. If I’m seen driving with you in the passenger seat, we’re screwed. So be a good boy and pretty, pretty please, get in the fucking trunk.”

  Colback was used to taking orders but never from civilians, no matter how alluring. Still, if she’d wanted to kill him, she could have done it by now. “Okay, but when we get somewhere safe, you owe me a huge explanation.”

  “You’ll get one. I need your phone too.”

  Colback reluctantly handed it over and climbed into the confined space. He was trying to make himself comfortable when he saw her remove the back of the phone and discard the battery and SIM card. She dropped the handset and stomped on it, grinding it into fragments under her heel.

  “Hey!”

  The trunk thumped closed, leaving him in complete darkness. He felt her weight sink the car slightly and heard the door slam before the engine caught at the first attempt. Colback felt the pistol pressing into the small of his back, and it provided him with a little comfort.

  As the woman drove smoothly and slowly through the city, he tried once again to make sense of what had happened. Even if his pursuer’s ID had been real, Homeland Security’s assertion that he was involved in terrorist activities was ludicrous. He’d spent years fighting for his country, and while he’d done unsavory things in the name of its military, his worst violation of US law had been a speeding ticket five years earlier.

  If they really just wanted to speak to him, why had they tried to bundle him into a vehicle at gunpoint? It couldn’t have been a case of mistaken identity: the one called Wills knew his name.

  No, it all pointed to a snatch squad, but he was still no closer to figuring out what they wanted him for.

  After what felt like an hour, the sound of traffic thinned, and approximately thirty minutes later the car stopped and the engine died. Colback readied the pistol in case the woman had lured him into some kind of trap. When the trunk opened, she didn’t seem the least bit surprised to find herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

  “You can get out now,” she said, standing aside to give him room to extricate himself.

  Colback eased out of the trunk and stretched his legs. They were parked next to a cabin, and in the moonlight he saw nothing but trees in all directions. A single-lane dirt road provided the only means of access and led up to a garage.

  “You owe me a phone and a damn good explanation,” he said, keeping the gun trained on her.

  “You’ll get the explanation when we’re inside. The phone can wait.”

  She walked past him, ignoring the threat of the weapon, and he had no choice but to follow. As he did, insects sang their nocturnal chorus and an owl gave fair warning to the local rodents.

  “Do I even get a name?” he asked.

  “Eva,” she said over her shoulder as she unlocked the garage door.

  The name was familiar but Colback couldn’t place it.

  The interior of the garage was pitch-black and Eva used the flashlight on her phone to light the way. The garage looked barely large enough to house the Nissan with enough space to open the doors. There certainly wasn’t room for anything like workbenches. In fact, the only things Colback could see were an old V8 engine on a wooden pallet in the corner and a couple of empty cardboard boxes.

  “Nice place you’ve got.”

  Eva ignored him. She walked over to the engine and stuck her hand into a hole in the drywall. Seconds later, the pallet rose a few inches off the floor and swung to one side, revealing an illuminated set of metal stairs. She gestured for Colback to make the descent.

  Colback walked down the steps and into a room that was at least three times the size of the garage above. In one corner was a camping bed and sleeping bag, next to a kitchen area complete with sink and small refrigerator. The rest of that wall was taken up by a gun cabinet containing everything from pistols and knives to assault rifles and an assortment of grenades. The far wall hosted a desk, upon which sat a lap
top connected to two monitors.

  “I’ll say it again: you’ve got a nice place.”

  Eva hit a switch at the side of the staircase and the trapdoor swung back into place. Colback took a seat on the bed.

  “Now that we’re here,” he said, “would you mind explaining what the fuck is going on?”

  Eva took a pair of jeans from a door-less closet and put them on, then sat at the laptop and hit a few keys before swiveling the chair around to face him. “To answer your question as bluntly as I can, I have no fucking idea. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “You mean you picked me off the street at random?”

  “No, dumbass, I’ve been following you all day, waiting for them to make their move. When they did, you caught me off guard. I didn’t expect you to get away.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Colback said. “How about we start with the basics. Who exactly are they? The ones at the cop station said they were Homeland Security.”

  Eva opened a bag of chips, took a handful, and passed the rest to Colback. “That’s a start,” she said. “Would you recognize them if I showed you some mug shots?”

  “Sure. One of them called himself Wills, if that helps.”

  “Probably an alias but I’ll check it anyway.”

  She turned to face the laptop again, and Colback walked over to stand next to her. She brought up a new window and Colback recognized the Department of Homeland Security seal above a login box.

  “You have access to their system?”

  “Only some of it. If there are areas I can’t get into, I phone a friend.”

  Her fingers danced over the keys and three images appeared on the screen. Two of them were female; Eva clicked on the photo of the male. “Is that him?”

  “Not even close. The guy at the station was thirty years younger.”

  “Then we’ll have to do it the hard way,” she said. “Describe him.”

  “About six-three, mid to late thirties, very short hair, almost shaved. It could have been black or dark brown; it was hard to tell.”

  Eva entered the parameters and set the search running. “It might take a while to find all the matches,” she told him.

  “Great. That’ll give you time to explain what this is all about.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Anton West paced the control room, chewing ferociously on a flavorless piece of gum. Computer monitors surrounded him, encrypted radio networks chattered and all manner of staff were busy sifting through information feeds. What should have been a simple takedown had quickly turned into a clusterfuck, and his team of incompetents had compounded their stupidity by losing the target. The last reported sighting was outside the NYPD station on 51st Street, where the subject had been spotted getting on the back of a motorcycle. It had taken precious minutes to get that information and then to set his intelligence analysts to work on the problems. Hacking into the traffic management system was only the first of the issues they faced.

  “Sir, we have the bike. We’re looking to see where it went.”

  West ran a hand through his short, black hair. Silver had begun to show through in recent weeks and he had a feeling today was going to add even more gray. “Transfer the coverage to the main screen.”

  West watched the black street bike dodge traffic as it sped away from his men on the ground. The time stamp told him the footage was nine minutes old.

  “Speed it up,” he ordered, frustrated at the real-time view. The film began to run at double speed, and when the bike left the camera’s field of view, the man at the keyboard quickly switched to the one in the adjoining street.

  A minute later, West watched the motorcycle head into a parking garage underneath a shopping mall. “They’re either switching vehicles or trying to make it on foot,” he said to everyone and no one in particular. “Listen up.” He slammed his fist onto the long planning table in the center of the room. “Pearson, get me coverage inside of that mall. Hughes, I want to know about every vehicle that leaves in the next thirty minutes, including registered owner and facial recognition on all occupants.”

  West looked down and toyed with the phone in his hand. Protocol dictated he update his superior on the latest development, but it wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to.

  The previous three removals had gone like clockwork, but there’d been no congratulations or backslapping. He’d been given a task and been expected to complete it, period. He’d only held the position for three months, ever since his predecessor, a well-regarded man in the covert operations community, had inexplicably vanished. The fact that his disappearance hadn’t been thoroughly investigated confirmed one thing: survival was based purely on results.

  That was why they’d chosen him to head up the East Coast unit. Fifteen years in the field had seen him register nineteen confirmed kills, none of which had been officially government-sanctioned. As a black bag operative, he’d been given carte blanche when it came to the execution, as long as it was within certain parameters and time frames. He’d quickly become Homeland Security’s number-one choice when it came to eliminating the country’s enemies on its own soil. Whether journalists who got too close to an awkward truth, or a foreign national suspected of stealing military secrets, they all met with unfortunate accidents.

  The same fate had befallen the first three people on his current hit list, but the fourth and last wasn’t playing ball. That was due to sloppiness on his team’s part, but West was under no illusions as to where the buck stopped.

  “I’ve got a hit on a light brown Nissan,” one of his men said.

  “Who is it?”

  “That’s the thing. There’s no registered owner for the vehicle, and facial recognition comes back as classified.”

  West stared at the screen as the operative zoomed in on the female driver. He had no idea who she was, but it was too much of a coincidence that someone with a sealed file should be leaving the garage so soon after the bike entered. “Tail her. I want to know everywhere she stops. And get a bird to track her. She has to be part of this.”

  West looked at his phone again. Despite all the resources at his disposal, certain things remained beyond his reach. He could access the tax returns of anyone up to and including active senators, read their emails, even comb through their bank accounts. A few thousand people at most were safe from his prying eyes, and for some reason this woman was one of them. To learn anything more about her, he had no choice: he’d have to pass the request up the chain.

  West spat out his gum and replaced it with a fresh stick, then dialed his superior’s number.

  CHAPTER 5

  “What’s with the oversized shoe?” Eva asked.

  Colback explained that it had happened during a firefight in Afghanistan. The round had shattered his femur, and after being medevacked back to the base near Zaranj on the Iranian border, he’d been flown to a Role 2 medical treatment facility in Germany to spend six months in plaster. As a result of the surgery, his right leg was half an inch shorter than the left, and if he walked on bare feet it felt as if he were wearing one shoe. The top brass, while sympathetic, had informed him that his time in Special Forces was effectively over and offered him three choices. Colback instantly rejected a return to his former unit, the 141st, and the prospect of sitting behind a desk held no particular appeal either.

  “In the end, I accepted a medical discharge and a small pension.”

  “Bummer.” Eva took a photograph from a backpack and handed it to Colback. “You’ll recognize the faces.”

  Colback took the picture and immediately recalled the setting. The image showed him standing with Jeff Driscoll, Danny Bukowitz, and Ron Elphick outside a bar in Phuket, Thailand. Driscoll had a snake draped around his neck, some kind of harmless python.

  “That was taken in . . . 2009?” he said. “We had two weeks’ R & R and decided to go somewhere exotic. We’d been stationed in Afghanistan and after rotating back to Kuwait we went to Thailand. Danny had been to Phuket a few tim
es and showed us his favorite haunts. That snake belonged to a woman who worked the bar. We paid a couple of bucks each for a copy of that photo. Mine’s back in Okeechobee.” He looked up at Eva. “How did you get this?”

  “Jeff sent it to me.”

  The penny finally dropped. “You’re that Eva? His sister?”

  She nodded.

  “But he told me you worked for the DMV. Do all state employees have secret underground hideouts?”

  “I told him that because I couldn’t tell him the truth.” She stood and took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Jeff and I were always competitive as kids. We played on the same little league team, were both high school athletes, had the same karate instructor, you name it. Everything we did was like our own personal Olympics.”

  “I knew that much from Jeff, but what’s this truth that you can’t share with him?”

  Eva looked less serious than she had done so far. Her shoulders seemed to relax, and a faint smile brushed her lips as she reminisced. “When the time came to go to college, Jeff dropped his bombshell. He was done with school. Instead, he enlisted in the Army. Our dad lost his mind. He even threatened to cut Jeff out of his will, but Jeff didn’t care. We weren’t exactly a rich family, and Jeff said he’d prefer to live his life without regrets than exist to please others.”

  “So he signed up for the Rangers.” Colback knew that Driscoll had served with the Rangers for a few years before meeting him, Elphick, and Bukowitz in the Green Berets.

  “That’s right. And I wish I could have seen the look on his face when I sent him a photo of myself in uniform two months later. I got the same threats from our dad, of course, but my parents eventually realized that we weren’t kids anymore. They were more worried about me, naturally, but I still had a thing or two to prove to my big brother. Back in those days, I couldn’t join a combat regiment, but I sure as hell intended to get my first stripe before he did.”