by Dameon Gibbs
Opening their doors and stepping out, Tucker and Ramona moved across the street as the light changed. A fairly large sized minivan stopped next to Edge as it waited for the light. “Ah, shit. Come on,” he complained as it blocked his view of the building entrance.
Tucker looked around for anything suspicious, but he was confident that they were safe for now. “So what are you hoping to get from your friend?” he asked as he opened the entrance door for her. It was his means of trying to start up a conversation to keep her mind off of the fact that someone could be following them.
Stepping inside after her, he was greeted with a blow to the side of the head. Dropping to one knee, he went for his gun, which was no longer there. As he tried to look at Ramona, his line of sight was blocked by the muzzle of a gun held by a masked man dressed in a business suit. Two other similarly dressed men grabbed Ramona and started dragging her to the street.
Slightly dazed Tucker went to pursue Ramona, but the man with the gun cocked the hammer as a warning and slowly backed his way to the group as they entered a large SUV.
The light changed, and the minivan peeled off, unveiling Edge’s line of sight. He watched as a large black Government-type SUV, not an uncommon sight in D.C., slowed down in front of the E-TRACE entrance. What was uncommon was the small crowd of people hustling away from the building.
“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me!” Edge exclaimed as he drew his gun and made for the building entrance. Running through moving traffic was not how he wanted to start his day. Thankfully many of them were kind enough to stop; only it wasn’t for him. To Edge’s right, a large black monster of a vehicle came charging, forcing him to dive back the way he came.
This vehicle was like something out of a movie. The silhouette was similar to most large SUVs, but the angles were sharp giving it a trapezoidal shape and its wheels were enormous multipurpose military grade tires. Its wheelbase was longer than any SUV and the suspension system screamed of off-road capabilities. It had to be at least twenty feet long and about nine feet wide. It was a hulking piece of machinery that was not created for any civilian purpose. It was military design with military capabilities and that meant bad news for Edge, Tucker, and Ramona.
As the first vehicle sped past Edge, the SUV with Ramona and her kidnappers pulled out behind it and a third vehicle, a clone of the first, fell into line as the final vehicle in the convoy. Tucker came running out the entrance toward Edge screaming, “They got her!”
Edge jumped back in the car, made a sharp U-turn and only stopped long enough for Tucker to slide into the passenger seat.
“It’s the Order,” Tucker cursed as the car took off, spinning tires and all.
“I’ve noticed, what happened?” Edge asked.
“They must’ve been waiting for us inside; barely opened the door when I got a gun to the side of my head,” he responded rubbing his temple. “I mean, how the hell did they know we were going here?”
Edge knew the reason, but now was not the time to say it.
۞۞۞۞
The afternoon traffic was still a short while off, and although the three vehicles got a head start, in Edge’s skilled hands, Tucker’s more agile and responsive car was able to rapidly close the distance between them.
“Damn it, I should’ve taken the gun,” Tucker said as he slammed the dashboard. “I could’ve stopped them.”
Edge shook his head. “This worked out better. You and Ramona are alive,” Edge calmly replied, both hands remaining on the wheel, dodging traffic and focusing in on Ramona’s abductors two blocks ahead. “If you’d pulled a gun, you’d be dead right now. At least, now you can get her back.”
Tucker covered his face and inhaled deeply, trying to regain his composure. “But why didn’t they just shoot us? I mean it would’ve been quicker. What if they torture her? What if…” Tucker rambled on.
“Hey, buddy!” Edge interrupted, “The only way we’re going to get her back is if you remain calm and help guide me through this concrete jungle. If not, we risk losing them, got it?” his leadership voice boomed in the car.
Tucker clenched his hands and opened them as he exhaled. “You’re right,” he said determinedly. “We’re not losing them.”
“Damn right!” Edge responded, not only trying to reassure Tucker but himself too, for deep down in his gut he was not sure what the outcome would be. All he knew was that he had to help figure it out soon; Ramona’s life hung in the balance. “First things first: let local authorities know of the situation,” Edge advised.
“Got it,” Tucker replied holding his mobile phone to his ear, “At my level we have a crisis number to call if something goes wrong, like if we’re followed. Like our own personal 911.” The phone barely rang when it was picked up by one of the crisis operators, a male voice requesting identification.
“This is Senior Analyst Dante Tucker, ID 62AA. We’ve got a kidnapping in progress,” Tucker rattled off the location while Edge moved the car around the slower moving vehicles. “Victim is Agent Ramona Xuxa,” he paused while the operator confirmed the name. “We’re driving in a silver luxury sedan and are in pursuit of the suspects. They are heading east towards Pennsylvania Avenue in a large black SUV, no license plate. That’s the vehicle with the hostage. It’s the standard FED type. It’s accompanied by two big ass vehicles. Edge, do you know what they are?”
Edge raised his eyebrows as his brain ran through all the vehicles he knew. “They’re some new prototype crossover between the military’s armored personnel carriers and civilian SUV’s.”
“You get that?” Tucker asked the operator.
The operator responded, “Roger, hell spawn of an APC and soccer mom’s delight. Notifying local L.E.O.s,” the operator replied. The man had apparently dealt with these types of calls a lot; the conversation seemed second nature to him.
“We’re going to need air support. Armed air support,” Edge stated.
“Are you talking military aircraft?” Tucker asked.
“Would love it,” Edge said. “Tell him to get whatever he can that will break through that outer shell.”
Tucker relayed the message to the operator who responded the same way he had moments before. Meanwhile, Edge noticed traffic was getting heavier; the main roads were going to be tough for those large vehicles to navigate. Aaand this is where shit gets ugly, he thought to himself.
Soon as he finished the thought the first of the armored vehicles jumped onto the sidewalk and started barreling through in its path. Pedestrians dived for cover as its monster wheels missed them by mere inches. The other vehicles followed suit.
The lead vehicle then returned to the road, knocking the slow moving cars out of the way, clearing a path across the intersection it t-boned a car, causing it to spin like teacup ride out of the intersection. The rest of traffic screeched to a halt as the SUV passed through the now open lane. The last armored car decided not to navigate the path but instead drove over the front of a stopped car as if in a demolition derby.
Edge watched as the vehicles barged through traffic like a bull in a china closet. Realizing the only way to keep up with them was to follow their lead. “Tucker you may want to grab that ‘oh shit’ handle.”
“Why?” Tucker asked as the car jumped the curb. “Holy shit, Edge, what are you doing?!”
“Offensive Driving 101,” he replied as they sped through the intersection. “Good news is as long as we keep them in the city they can’t go that fast.”
“But they’re knocking cars around like bowling pins,” Tucker pointed out.
“It’s keeping their speed down, dissipating their momentum. They’re heavy, and they don’t accelerate that fast. That gives cops time to catch up.”
“So what’s the bad news?” Tucker asked, almost afraid to know.
“There’s a lot of pedestrians in D.C.,” Edge replied, leaning on the horn attempting to clear a path.
With a V10, four hundred horse-powered engine, the Order’s armored vehicles roared
along the hot summer pavement. Two police vehicles tried to block an intersection as their drivers fired on the approaching vehicles to slow them down. The convoy was not impressed.
The lead armored personnel carrier dropped speed and moved to the right, as the SUV dropped speed, moving to the left. The police thought their plan had worked until the other armored personnel carrier came charging in between his companions at full speed. Its engine roared as it broke past the others and parted the two cop cars like parking cones. The SUV sped up through the open space, and the other vehicle maneuvered behind it to form a line down the road once again.
Traveling between its two monstrous truck buddies, the SUV frequently hopped curbs onto pedestrian-filled sidewalks. The reinforced stainless steel bull bars and forty inch wheels on the armored vehicles plowed through vendors that lined the capital’s sidewalks, sending their contents flying over the district’s streets like confetti on New Year’s.
By this point foot patrol units had started moving people away from the sidewalks. Still, too many close calls happened as the massive vehicles destroyed every obstacle in their path. The lead armored car jumped the curb onto a large flower bed located in the median, gouging up the dirt and flowers, and nearly crushing the landscaper in the process, before crashing down on the other side, finally making their way east on Pennsylvanian Avenue.
Trailing a few blocks behind, Edge and Tucker found themselves trying to navigate through the wreckage. With the distance closing steadily between them, Tucker was still on the phone with the crisis team. “Cop’s bullets are just bouncing off the vehicles.”
“Yeah, those cars are definitely armored; a sidearm is not going to do much,” Edge replied.
“They’ve got a SWAT ‘copter coming for support. They’re rigging it with a light machine gun. They’ll probably be here in five minutes,” Tucker reported.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Edge replied abruptly. He saw another police blockade ahead. “Cause the last blockade worked so well,” he muttered to himself.
Much to his surprise instead of plowing through the blockade, the three vehicles jumped the curb and went off-road into a construction site.
“Fuck,” Edge cursed, slamming down on the breaks just shy of the sidewalk. He took a quick second to watch the three vehicles make their way further into the site, spewing up dust and debris in their wake. “This car won’t make it in there.”
“Go left here and be ready for a sharp right,” Tucker replied. He hit the door when Edge slammed his foot firmly on the accelerator and the car peeled left.
The construction site was for a two and a half acre public parking garage, and it was bustling with activity: cement mixers, rebar, spools of wire and cable, and workers going steadily about the business of building. As the three large vehicles plowed through the work site, tools and materials went flying. Worker promptly dove out of the way; all escaped unscathed except for one worker in a portable toilet that was sideswiped by one of the APCs, sending it tumbling down a small hill.
At the next intersection, Edge yanked the wheel to the right as the car turned on a dime. Tucker put his hands on the dashboard trying to stop himself from falling onto Edge’s lap. Okay, this is it. This is how I’m gonna die! Tucker swore.
A short distance in front of them, the lead armored vehicle hammered its way through the fence at the other end of the site. Chain link fencing and a cloud of dust erupted across the road.
Tucker noticed that only two of the Order’s vehicles were speeding down the road, dust still flying off their backs. “Hey, where’s the third one?”
As if reading Tucker’s mind the last vehicle flew out of the site heading straight for their car. The grill grew larger in the passenger window. With its ramming bars and the roar of the engine gave an image of a large beast charging its prey. Tucker slammed his foot on the floor as if he could will a gas pedal into existence. “Big car, BIG CAR!” he yelled.
Edge’s reflexes snapped the car left, away from the threat of the armored beast, and squarely into the oncoming lanes. Tucker’s eyes widened as he reacted to a view of traffic not ordinarily seen by people who obeyed the rules of the road.
“Car,” Tucker announced. “Another car; holy shit, bigger car,” he rambled as they made it onto the sidewalk without getting hit though that presented a new list of obstacles for Tucker to narrate, “People, lots of people,” he advised. “HOT DOG CART!”
Edge’s no-collision streak ended as the hot dog cart launched into the air, sending food and condiments flying. The windshield turned yellow as one of the containers exploded. “Ahhh crap, mustard,” Tucker complained as he started looked through the clean areas.
“Yeah I hear ya,” Edge agreed. “I’m more of a relish man myself,” turning on the wipers. Tucker simply looked at the man with a bewildered expression.
“Is this how you always drive?” Tucker asked, stupefied.
“When necessary. You know the op in Beijing you were asking about?”
“Ah huh.”
“Well, I was helping them chase down a weapons dealer. The government wasn’t too happy with my driving; something about over a million dollars in destruction. I think they exaggerated,” he commented conversationally as he closed the gap on the fleeing vehicles. “Anyway, they promised not to throw my ass in jail for catching the guy, but I am banned from their country forever.”
Tucker looked at his car and all the dents and gouges in it. “Yeah, they totally overreacted.”
The Order’s vehicles made a sudden sharp right.
“Where are they trying to go?” Tucker wondered aloud.
Edge looked in the rearview mirror and noticed a line of police cars following. “This is turning into the OJ event.”
“Son of a bitch, you’re right!” Tucker exclaimed as he put the phone up to his ear.
Edge, surprised, asked, “I am?”
“They’re trying to get onto Route 50,” Tucker exclaimed to the crisis responder, who was still on the open line following the chain of events verbally and translating them to the appropriate recipient. “Clear the roads as fast as possible, and close down the highway along with it!”
“Roger, sir. You do know that it's rush hour? A whole army couldn’t clear that out.”
“Do what you can,” Tucker pleaded.
Tucker’s thoughts returned to Ramona’s kidnapping, replaying the scenario. How could I let them take her? How did they know we were going there? No, no, it wasn’t Winford. No, they tapped his line. Right?
Tucker tried to imagine how it had happened, but either way, it was his actions that resulted in the women he loved being kidnapped. Her capture was his fault, and if something were to happen to her, he knew he would never forgive himself. His fear and his fury grew in equal measure: when he did catch her kidnappers, and if it took until the end of his days, his vengeance was going to be legendary.
With the speedometer pushing forty-five miles per hour and climbing, Edge pressed down on the clutch, shifting into fourth gear, and sent the car bulleting down the street.
Edge began to feel that he was part of some crazed parade as the tourists lined the sidewalk to get a glimpse of the trio of vehicles plowing their way out of the city. They were playing it safe inside the city for some reason. Yes, they were destroying everything in sight, but judging by his last few encounters this was only the beginning of the encounter. When they got on the highway, this chase was going into a full out battle.
With the Capital building fading in the distance behind them, the lead vehicle hung a sharp left on a single lane street heading north, coming up on a lone car waiting at the intersection for the signal to change. With no intentions of stopping, they pressed on at their speed. It collided with the rear of the much smaller hybrid; the truck’s bull bars did their job well, thrusting the fragile car out into the busy intersection. The miniature car didn’t make it ten feet before the driver was t-boned by a sedan, crumbled glass and fiber glass went sprawling out in
to the streets. Both vehicles came to a screeching halt five feet later.
Making little use of their brakes, Edge, and the cop vehicles maintained pursuit to close the distance. Way beyond the lead car was the sign that allowed them access to the highway. The real fun was about to begin.
It had been exactly fifteen minutes since Ramona was abducted, but to Tucker it felt like an eternity, and he could only image what she was currently going through.
Chapter 5
In the back seat of the black SUV, Ramona, and her captors were being tossed around as the vehicle weaved sharply from lane to lane.
The captor to her left easily weighed over two-hundred fifty pounds; the one to her right was smaller but more muscular. Ramona's hands were duct-taped in front of her, and she had no way to stabilize herself as she was alternately crushed from one side or the other. She felt like a tree stuck between two mountains during an earthquake.
“Do you know who I am?” she snapped.
“Yes we know who you are, Agent Xuxa. And does it look like we care?” responded a cynical accented voice from the front passenger seat. “We also know that you’ve been opening that pretty little mouth of yours to certain ears, and my superiors aren’t too happy.”
“So, what do you want?” Ramona demanded, forcing exasperation in her voice to cover the terror she felt.
“Oh, you really don’t want to know what I want to do to you,” the passenger answered, a whisper of enjoyment in his voice, “but luckily for you, that’s not my call. What you should be worrying about is what they plan to do with you.”
The figure turned and grinned at her, displaying his newly scarred face, his smile sending chills through her. It was Draggo, Keeast’s second in command. “And you will meet them soon enough.”
Ramona was determined not to let them intimidate her, now that she knew that she was to be delivered, presumably intact, to someone else. Time to be a bitch! She thought with a smile.