Only he wasn’t. There wasn’t anything in the sky. “Warp, he isn’t here.”
“But, but, but…” Warp stuttered, then the line went quiet. “Oh no,” the tech groaned.
“What?” Zach could tell by the guy’s voice this was bad. Really, really bad. Worse than just losing sight of the suspect. “Warp?”
“I’ve been…” the tech gulped loudly in Zach’s ear. “We’ve been hacked.”
“That can’t be,” Zach stated. “The guy is up in the air.”
“He must have an accomplice,” Warp said. “Because they have been feeding me fake traffic cam images, leading you astray.”
While Zach was pissed, mighty pissed, so much made sense. This wasn’t a single person executing these elaborate cyber heists. It was a team. Something the profilers back in DC never detected. Of course, Robin Hood had never been spotted before. Their crimes were elegant in their conception. Apparently, two heads did think better than one.
“Oh no,” Warp groaned again.
What could be worse than losing the suspect and having the FBI field office hacked?
“Oh god.”
Zach’s stomach dropped. There could only be one other aspect of this case that had gone wrong. “The bank account?”
“Gone,” Warp answered.
“How much?” Zach asked, although, from the tech’s tone, he pretty much knew already.
“All of it.”
That was billions and billions of dollars. “How?”
“They let me hack into a ghost account. It looked like I’d stopped the transfer, but the money has been siphoning the money all this time. They just got the last of it.”
And right under their noses.
Zach gripped the wheel and stepped on the gas again. “Tell me when the satellite feed is back up.”
“Where are you going?” Warp asked.
The only place the hacker would be going after stealing over ten billion dollars.
* * *
“We’ve lost them!” Quirk announced. His tone glowing with pride. “Hah! Take that, G-men.”
Ronnie would have smiled, except for, you know, the wind slapping her in the cheeks. Her only thought was getting to the rendezvous point. If the helicopter couldn’t come to her, she needed to get to it.
Using just her wings, since the jet packs, much like the pen laser, had rapidly overheated. Quirk really shouldn’t call them prototypes. He should call them use-it-once-before-it-overheats-types.
Ronnie glided over El Paso, passing over the FBI building.
“Kind of ironic, right?” Quirk said in her ear.
Yes, it kind of was. Banking in the wind, Ronnie headed out of town and toward the airport. Her target? The large parking garage. The tiny spot in the distance rapidly approached. She just needed to land, change clothes, and head out to the helicopter, then meet up with Quirk. As the garage loomed ahead, this C plan really might work.
That was, until a bullet ripped through her right wing. The torn fabric flapped wildly, throwing her off balance. Tilting askew, Ronnie was headed straight for one of the garage’s concrete pillars. Pulling her arms together, she cut her lift all together, falling from the sky. Tucking into crash position, she could only hope that she had enough velocity to make it through the pillars and into the garage, otherwise…well…otherwise, she was going to make a very artistic statement on the street below.
Her foot hit a pillar, spinning her around as she sailed through the large concrete opening. She hit the floor on her shoulder. Pain shot up her side. As she lay there on the third parking level, trying to figure out if all of her bones were intact, bullets chipped away at the ceiling.
“And he’s shooting left handed,” Quirk said, sounding slightly too impressed. “While driving a speeding car.”
“How the hell did he find me?” Ronnie croaked out, still guarding her ribs.
“No idea, but girl, you better get on the move.”
Catching her breath, Ronnie pushed up from the pavement and unzipped the fabric that connected her legs together. She didn’t have time to tuck the extra fabric in the pocket Quirk had made for them. The screech of metal as the FBI agent’s car bounced over the entrance to the parking garage kind of told her that Quirk was right, she needed to haul ass.
With her “wings” now nothing more than flapping fabric, Ronnie knew that she looked like some kind of drunken mermaid making a run for it, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about pretty. She cared about practical.
But trying to outrace a car, uphill, was not going so great. Ronnie ducked her head over the side of the retaining wall to watch the FBI car pass the second turn. Damn the guy could drive.
“I’m not going to make it,” she said, as much to herself as to Quirk.
“Then honey darlin’, you better come up with a plan D.”
* * *
Zach laid on the emergency brake as he took yet another curve. The hacker couldn’t be that far ahead.
“Do we have satellite coverage yet?”
“Trying,” Warp answered, with that far-off voice of his. Either he was concentrating really hard, or having an internal argument that involved whether Big Bang Theory was a satire or homage to science fiction. Zach was learning you could never quite tell the difference with the tech.
Coming out of the curve, Zach punched the gas pedal, flying across the third level, aiming for the up ramp to level four. He was about the make the turn when his headlight bounced off metal. Slamming on the brakes, Zach laid down rubber, skidding to a stop just inches from a car parked sideways in the tight space of the up ramp.
He didn’t bother to curse or hit the steering wheel. Zach just popped his car door open and jumped out. He slid onto the car’s hood, then hit the ramp running. The hacker must have been heading for the roof, because that was exactly where Zach would run, and so far, he was batting a thousand on what the hacker was going to do next.
Except, of course, for Robin Hood stealing the oil company’s money, but honestly, Zach didn’t care about that. He was sure the oil company could take care of itself.
This was now personal.
The Robin Hood Hacker was going down.
* * *
Ronnie charged up the steps to the last level. Given that it was Christmas, the place was packed, end to end with cars. But no helicopter.
“Where’s my ride?”
“He says he’s en route,” Quirk answered.
“Okay, en route and being here are two distinctly—”
A shot rang out. Ronnie ducked behind the nearest vehicle. The bullet missed her—however, her back was covered in paint chips from the car that was hit. She dove behind the next car, trying to make it to the cover of the large electrical room at the corner of the garage.
“God, he’s hot,” Quirk breathed out. “You should see him, striding across the garage, arm out, firing shot after shot.
“Quirk!”
“Well, I mean, if he weren’t shooting at you, he’d be hot.”
She had little time to worry about Quirk’s crush. There were a good twenty feet between the last car and the electrical room. And with how rapidly the FBI agent was firing, she was not going to make it.
“I need a plan E,” Ronnie admitted.
“You do realize how crappy our plans C and D were, right?”
“Yeah,” Ronnie said, putting her hands over her head as the FBI agent shot off the side mirror of the car next to her.
Then the sweet, sweet sound of rotors filled the air. Her helicopter. It rose next to the garage in all of its escape-possibilities glory. There was no pretty way to make her escape. She was going to have jump for it and pray the FBI agent wasn’t going to shoot an unarmed person in the back.
“Tell the pilot to hold steady,” Ronnie shouted above the noise. The wash of the blades whisked away her words. Had Quirk heard her?
Taking a deep breath, Ronnie hopped onto the car next to her, then launched onto the edge of the ledge. A shot pinged off the
cement.
Crap. Guess the FBI agent would shoot her in the back. One of the risks one took when they were the FBI’s most-wanted cyber criminal, but there was no turning back now. Then the sound of the firing pin hitting metal filled the air. Then another. He was out of ammo.
Not wasting a moment, Ronnie jumped for the helicopter. Her foot found the railing as she grabbed for the handle of the door. The only casualty was her body suit, which ripped along the shoulder. Ronnie went to haul herself into the helicopter when it tipped precariously. Her body swung out, facing the FBI agent full on as he replaced his clip.
Ronnie really wanted to close her eyes if she was going to be shot to death, but Quirk was right. The agent really was just that hot.
* * *
Zach slapped the clip in and raised his weapon, but stopped as the hacker’s body suit ripped even further, revealing the curve of a breast. What the hell? Then Robin Hood’s blond hair tumbled out of its restraint, flying around her head like a halo.
“The Robin Hood Hacker isn’t a guy,” Warp said in his ear.
By no definition of the word, Zach thought as she looked into his eyes.
Then the helicopter righted itself, reminding him why he was here in the first place. To arrest the hacker, chick or not.
He raised his weapon, going for the good shot, but the hacker made her way into the chopper, slamming the door shut behind her. Zach shot, but he hit the door. Then the helicopter was hightailing it away. Maybe he could hit the gas tank or a rotor, but the chopper rapidly flew out over the desert. Zach fired until he ran out of ammo.
“The hacker is a woman,” Warp whispered into his ear, as if the tech were afraid to say it too loud.
“How quickly can we get our chopper in the air?” Zach asked.
“Again, it’s Christmas. I can’t imagine getting someone—”
“Then contact the local PD,” Zach ordered as he watched the chopper gain more and more distance. “They’ve got a rescue chopper.”
“But it’s out at a major accident on the I-85, and, before you ask, the news choppers are all out there, as well.”
This could not be happening. He could not have come so close to lose the hacker now. But that was exactly what was happening. The chopper was flying way under any radar. Once they made it past the outskirts of town, they could head anywhere. Including south, to Mexico, where they could lose themselves before you could say extradition.
Zach holstered his weapon and leaned against the concrete ledge, doing the only thing he could…
Watch the Robin Hood Hacker fly away.
EPILOGUE
Ronnie watched the sun set from the window of the train. The Mexican desert streaked past as they entered night. Freshened up and changed into actual clothes, the stress of the near miss slowly melted away.
Quirk opened the door to their compartment. How did he always look like he had walked off a Milan runway? The only concession to their anonymity was the hat he wore to hide his perfectly raven-black hair. And even the damned hat was high fashion.
“I thought we said ‘low key,’” Ronnie complained.
“What?” Quirk retorted. “I am not wearing feathers, sequins or appliqués, so, I repeat, what?”
Ronnie didn’t bother to argue the point. Or mention the fact that his pants were faux snakeskin or that his boots were orange. She could never win. However, she did stop him from sitting down.
“Nope,” she said. “We’re going to the dining car.”
“Ugh,” Quirk groaned. “I just want to sit down, apply some apricot exfoliating cream and take a nap.”
“After dinner,” Ronnie insisted, turning him around and nudging him through the door.
As the train rattled underfoot, they made their way down the hallway and into the dining car. The place was empty, except for one person sitting at the far end of the booth.
“I thought we’d bought out the car?” Quirk asked.
“We did,” Ronnie said, urging him forward.
The figure stood up and walked toward them.
“Oh my god!” Quirk squealed, then threw his hand to his mouth. “It’s William Shatner.”
Ronnie laughed as the sci-fi icon joined them. “Yes it is.”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Quirk repeated, over and over again.
Shatner extended his hand, but Quirk could only mutter his fanboy chant. The star chuckled, clearly used to the reaction, then offered his hand to her. She was pretty much in awe, too, but managed to return the handshake.
“Thank you so much for making the trip,” Ronnie said as their hands parted.
“Can I call you Captain?” Quirk blurted.
Shatner nodded. “With the payment your friend made to get me here on Christmas? You can call me anything you like. Kirk. James T. Your call.”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”
Ronnie waited, hoping that Quirk could pull it together enough to say something coherent, then realized that was not going to happen. She turned to Shatner.
“When we reach Hermosilla there will be a private plane waiting to fly you to Los Angeles, where you will meet up with your new horse. There will be a climate-controlled trailer there you can drive up to your ranch at Three Rivers.”
The star cocked his head. “How did you get the imperial family to sell the stud? They swore they’d never part with him. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
Ronnie shrugged as Quirk continued his shock-induced mantra. “A girl’s got to have some secrets.”
“Well, I can’t thank you enough,” Shatner said, then eyed Quirk. “Just an hour of face-time, though, right?”
“Yeah,” Ronnie assured him. “Normally he’s a bright, articulate firebrand,” she said.
“They all are,” the star said with a smile.
Ronnie patted Quirk’s shoulder as she passed by. Hopefully he would come to his senses before the sixty minutes ran out.
“Wait,” Quirk blurted just as she was about to exit the car. He trotted up to her. “Thank you!” The normally glacially cool hacker wrapped her in a bear hug. “This is the best Christmas present ever.”
“Oh, but it’s not,” she said. “Meeting Shatner is your birthday present. Happy Birthday, Quirk.”
Tears filled her assistant’s eyes, and damn if her eyes didn’t respond. Years ago she’d sworn off feelings, or relationships of any sort. A hacker’s life was a life lived best alone.
Until now.
“Thank you so much, Ronnie,” Quirk rushed on to say. “But I’ve only got fifty eight minutes left and there are twenty-nine episodes—”
“Thirty, if you count the original pilot,” Shatner commented.
Quirk’s face lit up like a sci-fi super nova. He pointed his finger at his hero. “Just one of the things we’re going to debate.”
Ronnie pushed him toward his present. “Go.”
With one last quick hug, Quirk was gone. He was pelting Shatner with questions before she could even make it out the car. The star was going to wish for the “oh my god” mantra to come back after a few minutes of Quirk’s geekery.
Despite the near-death experience in the elevator shaft, the swallow suit nearly burning up and getting shot at, Christmas had turned out pretty damn good for once.
* * *
Zach walked up to his mother’s apartment. It was way later than even his usual. The aftermath of nearly catching the Robin Hood Hacker had taken far longer than it should have. But when you shatter the law enforcement’s worldview on the number-one most wanted cyber criminal, there was some serious paperwork to be done.
He’d wanted to head home, but when he texted his mom, she’d hear nothing like that. It was still Christmas, and they were having dinner. End of story.
Before he could knock on the door, though, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He would have ignored it, since he’d already given like five different statements, but it was his boss, Danner.
“Yes, sir?”
“Sorry to bug you,
Hunt, I know I said you had the rest of the night off, but what are we supposed to do with this guy in holding?”
Crap. Zach had forgotten all about the jaywalker. “Let him go.”
“Did I hear that right?” Danner asked. “Special Agent Zachary Hunt is letting a suspect walk?”
“The Christmas spirit has overcome me, sir,” Zach chuckled. “But tell him if he misses another court date, I will lock his ass up for Valentine’s Day.”
“Will do,” Danner said before the connection clicked off.
He didn’t even have time to knock as the door burst open. “Zachary!” his mother exclaimed as she launched into a hug. “It is so good to see you.” Wow, it looked like, for once, she was going to let his tardiness go—until she rubbed his back. “Finally.”
There it was. His mom’s patented guilt-inducing zinger. Luckily, he was too tired to really care. “Yep.”
As they entered the living room, Zach glanced around. “Julia left?”
His mother snorted. “Oh please, she didn’t make it through the first hour of waiting.”
“She’s gone home then?”
“Home? Julia? When she’s mad?” His mother was shaking her head. “No way. She joined some girlfriends who were going to a bar for eggnog shots.”
Yes, that did sound like Julia. He couldn’t blame her, though. It was Christmas, after all. Ellard had warned him.
“Son, that girl is absolutely beautiful, but high maintenance. If you want to keep her you’ve got to—”
“Don’t worry,” he interrupted his mother, guiding them to the dinner table. “I’ll make it up to her.”
His mom put a hand on his arm. “Dear, using sexual gymnastics to solve the problem will not work forever.”
“Mom…”
“I’m just saying that pleasing her in bed isn’t going to make up for—”
“Mom!”
His mother waved him off, then straightened the tablecloth. Most of the food was already plated and ready. “Just because I’m a senior citizen doesn’t mean that I can’t remember what it was like to be young and engaged.”
Zach sighed. “Mom, I was going to give her a ten pack punch card for her favorite Pilates studio.”
Got Thrills? A Boxed Set (A McCray Collection) Page 12