The Crowns Vengeance

by Andrew Clawson

  As Erika started to talk, his internal alarms were blaring at full volume. Each man’s hair was close cropped, and, not to put too fine a point on it, they didn’t fit the stereotype of two lovers enjoying the day.

  When the passenger briefly locked eyes with him, Parker knew.

  “Listen to me,” he interrupted Erika, grabbing her elbow tightly as they walked, “and keep looking ahead. There are two guys across the street in a black Lincoln who looking at us.”

  To her credit, Erika never flinched. “Are they coming?”

  He glanced back over one shoulder and saw nothing. For a brief second, he wondered if he was overreacting. Then both doors swung open and the men hopped out. When they started running toward them, Parker shoved her away and reached for his gun.

  Chapter 41

  Inside the executive boardroom atop Aldrich Securities headquarters, Spencer Drake kneaded his temples, his eyes close. For the past twelve hours he had been dealing with the fallout from Horatio Stirling’s telegram, the discovery of which had forced his hand. Whether or not Agent Nicholas Dean had any idea of what he’d read, Nigel had been right. Now was not the time to take chances, so he and Nigel had decided to move forward with the final phase of their operation.

  Slightly less than six hours ago, Spencer and Nigel had finished their call with Sheik bin Khan, who had been less than pleased to learn that this supposedly foolproof plan may have been uncovered. The sheik was not used to taking orders, but when Drake told him it was time to send the American economy into a tailspin from which it might never recover, he’d gladly agreed.

  Today, the sheik had promised, oil production would double. Aldrich Securities and any other corporation, firm, or person who had overextended themselves to purchase oil futures assuming the cost of a barrel would continue to rise was in serious trouble.

  Trouble of the bankruptcy variety.

  “I suppose this calls for a celebration, Spencer.”

  Nigel Stirling stood and moved to the bar, and moments later two drinks appeared.

  “Not now. We still don’t know what happened to Mr. Chase and Dr. Carr. As long as those two are on the loose we’re not safe.”

  Stirling waved one hand dismissively. “They’re good as dead. Your head of security and his men are close on their tails. They won’t survive the day.”

  Drake’s fist smashed on the table, which sent whiskey shooting across polished mahogany. “Don’t be a damn fool. They’ve already escaped one attempt and killed a professional hit man. Do you really believe that they’re good as dead? I won’t be satisfied until I see their bloody corpses in a morgue.”

  Stirling said nothing, sipping his drink.

  Nigel’s wrist casually turned toward the ceiling, shirtsleeve sliding up to reveal his Patek Philipe watch. “I believe that the news may be out.”

  The television flashed to life. An extremely stern-faced analyst confirmed Nigel’s supposition.

  “It has begun.”

  The sharp buzz of Drake’s cell phone emanated from his pocket. It was Tom Becker.

  “Have you found them?”

  “They were just spotted outside Joseph Chase’s apartment. Our backup team is after them now. I’m on my way.”

  Drake’s reply was clear. “End this. Now.”

  Chapter 42

  Both men dove to the ground when Parker’s gun appeared. He grabbed Erika’s arm, already racing down the street. “Come on.”

  Their feet pounded on the sidewalk. Parker kept his gun aimed at the men, but didn’t shoot. He still didn’t know who they were, but if they gave chase, he wouldn’t be asking first.

  Erika’s face was ashen as she kept pace with him, veering down a side street. “Who are those guys?”

  “No idea, but one of them was on a cell phone. They might have friends on the way.”

  “Are you sure they’re not cops? Maybe they need to talk to us.”

  Two sharp cracks resounded off the brick walls surrounding them. “Maybe not,” she decided. “Come on.”

  Erika shot ahead of him with a burst of speed.

  Parker turned and saw the pair of suited men, each holding a gun. A muzzle flashed twice, and the car window beside him shattered.

  Who were these guys? And how did they find him?

  Parker whipped off a shot, which slowed them for a moment. As he raced across a lot that was under construction, Parker struggled to connect the dots. Unless these guys had been following them since their escape yesterday, which he highly doubted, there was just no way. He and Erika had ditched their phones. The clothes they’d been wearing from yesterday were gone, tossed in the trash. He’d learned the hard way several months ago how tracking bugs worked.

  Stacks of two by fours littered the lot. A Dumpster was parked in the alley, nearly filled with debris. He spotted Erika’s blonde hair disappear around the scuffed blue metal. Hidden by the Dumpster, they crouched down, eyes peering underneath the massive container for any sign of pursuit.

  Behind them was an apartment building, yellow brick stretching to the sky. Parker hoped the men would race past without stopping, focused on gaining ground.

  Two sets of feet slapped on the asphalt, the sounds becoming muffled when they hit the dirt lot, still moving fast. The men weren’t stopping.

  Side by side, they rounded the Dumpster’s edge, passing within a foot of Parker’s upraised gun. Faced with the brick wall, the pair stopped, glanced right and left.

  They never saw it coming.

  From inside of twenty feet, he put a shot squarely in each man’s back with ease. The bursts of concentrated fire sent them sprawling to the ground, their guns falling uselessly aside.

  Parker was on them in an instant, but they weren’t getting up. “Grab those guns, and check their pockets. I want to know who the hell these guys are.”

  Erika complied, cool under pressure as always. After what they’d been through, this was a regular day at the office.

  Pockets turned inside out, all Parker found was a cell phone. No wallets with any convenient identification cards. A sharp gasp from Erika grabbed his attention.

  “What is it?”

  She held up a photo, a color snapshot of two people.

  Two people he knew very well.

  “It’s us. He has a picture of us.”

  This wasn’t good at all. The picture was recent, a shot of them out to dinner one night.

  “Parker, this is barely a month old. Our waiter took this with my iPhone.”

  “They must have hacked into your phone before you ditched it.”

  Erika retied her ponytail, which had come loose during the chase. Parker saw her hands shaking as she twisted the flaxen strands.

  “Did you find anything? We have to figure out who these guys are.”

  “Just this cell phone. He doesn’t have—wait a second.”

  The phone in Parker’s hand began to vibrate. A local number flashed across the screen.

  “Don’t do it, Parker.”

  She knew him too well.

  “Why not? I want to know who the hell these guys are.”

  Before she could protest, he connected the call. He answered in a harsh, gruff tone.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s your status? Did you get them?”

  “No.”

  “What happened? Where are they? We’re in the car now.”

  Parker said nothing.

  “If Becker finds out we let Chase and his girl get away, it won’t go easy for you. We have to end this today.”

  He ended the call, his mind racing.

  “What did he say?”

  Erika’s blue eyes were wide, fierce yet fragile.

  “Some guy named Becker is their boss. The one I just talked to is on his way, and he’s not alone. We have to move.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he bolted from behind the Dumpster, headed toward a busier street to find a cab. Erika was right behind, a pilfered gun in each hand.

  “Put thos
e away. The cops will be here any minute. Someone had to hear all those shots.”

  Even as he spoke, the high-pitched whine of emergency sirens could be heard only blocks away. Erika tucked the guns under her shirt as Parker held one hand in the air.

  Ahead, a yellow taxi screeched to a halt. “Take us to the Liberty Bell.”

  The driver gunned it, tires squealing, never stopping the conversation in Arabic he was having with his Bluetooth.

  “The Liberty Bell?” Erika whispered with anger. “Are you crazy? They just found us at Joe’s old apartment. It won’t be a stretch to look near Independence Hall.” She was referring to the fact that while they’d been running from his uncle’s killers several months ago, they’d caused quite a scene at the venerable bell’s complex.

  “You might be right, but there are going to be tons of people there and it’s not far from Nick’s office. We need to get him involved, and I need time to think. Those guys wanted to kill us, and anywhere is better than here right now.”

  She said nothing, anger blazing across her soft features.

  Parker continued. “Would you be surprised if this had something to do with what we saw on the news? Maybe what’s going on with oil forced their hand in some way.”

  A light clicked on. She stared into space for a moment, and then slowly nodded.

  “It’s a possibility. You know more about the financial side of this whole mess than I do, but it seems plausible.”

  Her mouth screwed up, forehead lined. “One question, though. Why would Aldrich, if they are somehow involved with this oil production thing, purposefully lose so much money? And beside that, how in the world could they influence whether or not oil production increased? They don’t own any oil facilities, do they?”

  Even amidst this disaster of a day, she was sharp as ever.

  “Both valid points. As for answers, I don’t know. I’m hoping Nick can help us.”

  The taxi stopped outside of Independence Hall, which was across the street from the Liberty Bell Center. On the grassy lawn that surrounded the newly constructed building, hundreds of tourists milled about, most snapping pictures.

  They hurried to a nearby payphone.

  “You know, I haven’t used one of these in years,” Parker said.

  “Neither have I. Do you have any quarters?”

  “No, but Nick’s office has a toll free number. This call’s on Uncle Sam.”

  A minute later, Nick picked up. “Chase, what’s going on? I told you guys to stay put.”

  Parker brought him up to speed while Erika kept her eyes on the surrounding crowds, searching for any unfriendly faces.

  “You sure keep things interesting. What did you do with the guns?”

  “We still have them.”

  “All right, I need to meet you guys. Bring the guns, and maybe we’ll get lucky and get a hit on them. Are you safe right now?”

  “There are tons of people around here. I think we can last for a bit.”

  “Stay put. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Try not to shoot anyone.”

  Parker hung up. “Nick’s coming here.”

  Erika was silent, her eyes never leaving the crowds.

  With nothing to do for the time being, Parker figured he may as well check his messages and see if any of his industry contacts had called about the oil trading.

  He punched in his office number and had the secretary connect him to voice mail.

  The first six messages were all from clients, people with questions about their investments. Those could wait.

  The seventh message could not.

  “Get over here.”

  Erika’s head jerked around, one hand reaching for a gun.

  “No, no, the phone. Listen to this message.”

  He punched a button, and the message started over. Erika pressed one ear to the receiver as Parker listened in.

  “Parker, my name is Craig Fisher. I worked with Ben Flood at Aldrich.” The voice was soft, hesitant. “We’ve never met, but Ben mentioned your name a few times.” A deep breath, and Craig’s voice was even shakier. “I don’t know if this matters, but I thought you would want to know. A few days ago, when I was in our chairman’s office, I saw your name and photo on his desk.”

  Erika jumped a few inches off the ground, her mouth shaped like an oval.

  “I couldn’t see what was on the file, but I saw your name written on some papers attached to the picture, so I checked out your company profile photo. I have no doubt it was a photograph of you.” Craig sounded like he was about to lose it. “There was also someone else’s photo in the file, a blonde girl. All I could see was her first name: Erika. After that, Spencer Drake walked in. If you want to call me, here’s my cell.”

  Neither of them spoke for a few seconds. While they stood, pondering this latest development, Nick’s government-issue sedan pulled to the curb. “Toss the cell phone you found and get in.”

  Parker dropped the phone on the sidewalk before hopping in Nick’s sedan with Erika. Tires chirped as he cut off the car behind him, merging with traffic.

  “What happened to the badass SUV?”

  “Someone else is using it. What—”

  Parker cut Nick off. “I think we just found out who’s after us.”

  While Parker relayed the story to an astonished government agent, none of them noticed the black Suburban that trailed behind, shadowing their every turn.

  Chapter 43

  On a crowded street in downtown Philadelphia, traffic inched along. Amidst the exhaust fumes and orchestrated chaos, a black Suburban carried three men, each silently focused on the dark blue sedan four cars ahead, in the back of which sat their two targets.

  One of the dark-suited trio spoke rapidly into a cell phone. “Yes, we found the other two. Both were shot. No, we didn’t have time to move the bodies. Because the police were coming, that’s why.” He listened for a moment, face unmoving.

  “The two of them are ahead of us. We have visual contact. They’re now with a third man, identity unknown. I’ve never seen him before. We’ll follow them until an opportunity presents itself. I’ll notify you before we move on them, Mr. Becker.”

  He replaced the phone in his pocket. Each member of his team carried an identical device, including the two who were now lying in a dirt lot, shot to death by Parker Chase. Fortunately for these men, each phone was equipped with a real-time GPS tracker. Without it, the three men would never have been able to locate Parker, Erika and their driver outside of Independence Hall.

  “Once we get into a less populated area, we move. One hit from this tank”-he patted the dashboard-“and that sedan won’t be driving anywhere.”

  For several miles, they remained just back of the sedan, hidden in heavy traffic. It was only once their target entered the Fairmount neighborhood of Philadelphia that traffic began to thin. Located near the world famous art museum, the area was mainly residential, with relatively few cars on the one-way streets.

  Ahead loomed the gothic facade of the infamous Eastern State Penitentiary. Stone walls stretched over forty feet into the air, constructed in the manner of a medieval castle and spanning an entire block.

  The passenger made a call. “We’re moving in. Eastern State Pen, south wall.”

  He dropped the phone and pulled out his gun. “Get them.”

  Without a word, the massive eight-cylinder engine growled, and their oversized vehicle shot forward, on a direct course for the blue sedan.

  Chapter 44

  “Craig Fisher, please.” Parker was riding shotgun in Nick’s car, talking on the agent’s speakerphone. After he’d explained to Nick about the message they’d received, Nick had wanted to speak with Fisher immediately.

  “Fisher speaking.”

  “Craig, this is Parker Chase. You left me a voice mail about Ben Flood.”

  The voice coming into Nick’s car dropped so low it was scarcely audible. Nick cranked the volume knob in frustration.

  “Parker, wow, you mus
t think I’m nuts.”

  “Not at all. I can’t explain right now, but trust me, I believe you and I appreciate you calling. I have someone on the line who wants to speak with you.”

  “This is Central Intelligence Agent Nicholas Dean, Mr. Fisher. I need your help.”

  “Did you say CIA?”

  “That’s right, son. Where are you right now?”

  “I’m in my office.”

  “Good. Do you have access to your company’s main database?”

  “Yes, of course,” Craig replied. “Why?”

  Nick ignored the question. “You’ll be receiving a phone call in the next ten minutes from one of my colleagues. I need you to do exactly as they tell you. Mr. Fisher, you may have just stumbled onto one of the biggest conspiracies in our nation’s history, and we need your help to stop it.”

  Craig’s response was incredulous. “What are you talking about? Are Parker and that blonde girl in trouble?”

  “Yes, Mr. Fisher, they are. However, that’s not important right now. Let me ask you a question. Are you having an interesting day at work?”

  Craig sounded taken aback. “Well, yes. Actually, that’s an understatement.”

  “What we are investigating is directly related to the recent news regarding oil production.”

  Craig didn’t say anything, but Nick wasn’t biting on the silence.

  There was a long pause.

  “Oh,” Craig Fisher finally continued. “In that case, I suppose I can help. Is Parker still there?”

  “I’m here,” Parker replied. “We think that whoever killed Ben is somehow tied in with the people responsible for today’s oil announcement, and we need your help to find them.”

  “You think the Arabs killed Ben?” Craig shouted.

  “Craig, keep it down. No, I don’t think it was anyone from the Middle East. Listen, we need your help now. I’ll explain everything later.”

  Craig didn’t sound happy, but he agreed to do whatever they requested. Nick called his office and arranged for one of the Agency’s electronic surveillance experts to send a virus through Craig’s computer that would allow the technician to access Aldrich Securities’ database. Once the CIA technician was able to get into Spencer Drake’s computer, they may be able to locate a link between Aldrich and either the attempts on Parker’s and Erika’s lives or the oil fiasco currently unfolding.