Nemesis: A Jordan Quest FBI Thriller

by Gary Winston Brown

  Maddy pulled out the phone she had taken from her abductor. “This phone’s useless, too.” She tried pressing the Home button several times. “I can turn it on, but that’s it. My guess is it’s encrypted.”

  Bullet brought his finger to his lips, quieted Maddy, then cracked open the container door and listened. The yard was quiet. He stepped outside.

  Maddy shuffled to the door with Eddy by her side. The dog had already accepted her as a friend.

  Bullet whispered to the dog. “No barking, okay?”

  Eddy panted but otherwise remained quiet.

  “Close it behind me, but not all the way,” Bullet instructed. “I’m gonna set up my security system.”

  “Are you going to be okay? I can come with you. I’m your eyes, remember?”

  Bullet shook his head. “I’ve got one thing she doesn’t have.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Home field advantage.”

  Bullet crept across the yard, navigating his way around the stacks of steel drums until he reached the fence. He opened the gate, slipped behind the large garbage container, then peered around the corner.

  All clear.

  Leaving the safe cover of the Dumpster, he walked several yards ahead, then brushed his fingertips over the ground until he found what he was looking for. A length of fishing line, invisible against the blacktop, lay slack on the ground and ran the width of the laneway. Bullet slipped the free end of the line through a steel eyelet which had been screwed into the wall several inches off the ground and pulled. When he had fed ten feet of line through the loop, he carefully tied it off with a quick-release knot. He looked across the laneway and inspected the makeshift alarm system. He had created a tripwire. On the opposite side of the laneway, a similar eyelet served to keep tension on the line. The line continued up the wall to where a collection of tin cans had been strung together. Should someone venture this far down the laneway at night, it would be virtually impossible for them to see the makeshift booby trap. They would walk into the line, release the slip knot, relieve the line of its tension, and send the tin cans crashing to the ground. It wasn’t a perfect system, but for Bullet’s purposes, it did the job. He set the alarm every night before he and Eddy retired for the evening and disarmed the trap at dawn before the company employees arrived. The adjoining building was vacant and had been for some time. Bullet had positioned the cans so that they would fall behind the tall wooden fence which separated the two properties. No one could see the cans from either the laneway or the company’s service yard. As soon as the alarm was set, he crept back behind the Dumpster and listened. There were no unfamiliar sounds. If the woman was out there somewhere, the night was keeping her presence a secret.

  Bullet slipped back into the yard through the gate, returned to his container home, knocked lightly on the steel door. Maddy opened it. “We’re good,” he said. “All that’s left now is to get you out of here. Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” Maddy replied.

  “Okay. Stick close. It’s not an easy path to navigate, not even for me, and I’ve got two good legs.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “When we’re where we need to be, I’ll make a call.”

  “A call? To whom?”

  “My friends. Us street kids have a network. We protect each other. But we need to get to the phone booth first.”

  “There’s a public phone booth down here? You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought those were relics of the past.”

  Bullet shook his head. “Nope. Government won’t allow it. Not everybody can afford a cellphone, so the city’s required to keep a few phone booths active in case all you have is a quarter and you need to make a call or dial 911. As soon as we’re there, I’ll arrange for a pickup.”

  “To take us where?”

  “The cops.”

  “But I thought you said—”

  “I said I didn’t want to have anything to do with them. But you need their help. Plus, you need to get that leg looked after before it falls off.”

  “It won’t fall off.”

  “So you say. Personally, I don’t want to be around when it does. That would be gross.”

  Maddy smiled. “I’ll do my best to save you from a sight that would scar you for life.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Now follow me.”

  At the end of the yard, Bullet parted two wooden fence boards, creating enough of a gap for them to slip through into the lot next to his. The neighboring yard was crowded with broken wooden pallets stacked haphazardly atop one another.

  “As you can probably guess, this used to be a pallet manufacturing company at one time,” Bullet said. “Guess they didn’t make it when the economy crashed. It’s gotta suck to work that hard to build something and see it go bust.”

  “I agree,” Maddy said. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask… is Bullet your real name?”

  The teen snickered. “Nah. It’s a nickname. Some state worker gave it to me. I liked it, so I kept it.”

  “What does it mean?”

  Bullet smiled. “I’ve been in more foster homes and halfway houses than Kellogg’s has Corn Flakes. Every time another foster mom or dad laid a hand on me, which they did a lot, I’d take off. One day this state dude sees me on the street, shows me his ID, and tells me to get in his car. I responded to his request with a hearty ‘go fuck yourself,’ then did what I do best. I ran. The bastard eventually caught up with me a few streets over. After cussing me out, he told me he’d never seen anyone run that quick, said I was ‘fast as a bullet,’ thus the name. It’s probably the only compliment anyone’s ever given me. It’s become sort of a badge of honor. Now everyone calls me Bullet. Which suits me just fine.”

  Maddy smiled. “I like it. It fits. Eddy... not so much.”

  “You’re still on the whole Fang, Killer, Satan thing, aren’t you?”

  “I’m just saying that when you have a dog that looks like Eddy, he needs a more menacing sounding name.”

  “I’ve got one!”

  “What?”

  “Eddy the Terrible.”

  Maddy laughed. “Not quite.”

  “Eddy the Destroyer?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Okay, I’ve got it. This is perfect. You ready?”

  Maddy groaned. “I know I’m going to regret this, but yes.”

  “His Ugliness, Sir Eddy.”

  “But Eddy isn’t ugly,” Maddy said.

  “I know. I just call him that as a joke. It doesn’t seem to bother him. Besides, he gets me.”

  Maddy chuckled. “If you say so.”

  “Then it’s official.” Bullet stopped, picked up a stick. Eddy looked up, cocked his head. The teen extended the stick, tapped the dog on his shoulders, first his left, then his right, then said, “I hereby dub thee His Ugliness, Sir—”

  Behind them, the collection of suspended cans Bullet had secured with the tripwire suddenly fell. They clattered loudly on the concrete.

  “Shit,” Bullet said. “Someone just set off my alarm.”

  “She’s back.”

  Sensing the tension in the air, Eddy growled.

  “Think you can move any faster?” Bullet asked.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not unless you want to die.”

  Bullet heard the door to the steel shipping container open with a loud creak.

  His home had been compromised.

  There was no turning back now.

  “Come on,” he said.

  Together they ran.

  37

  JORDAN AND CHRIS stood at the edge of the massive green space observing the dozens of buildings which backed on to it, looking for signs of activity but saw none.

  “It looks quiet,” Chris said.

  “Too quiet,” Jordan replied. She knelt, touched the ground where earlier she’d seen Maddy’s ethereal energy enter the property. “She entered the marsh here.”

  “Can you see where she went?”

 
Jordan stood, shook her head. “There’s too much interference.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bodies are buried here. Lots of them.”

  “You’re saying this is a cemetery?”

  “Yes, but not in the traditional sense.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s a burial ground.” Here and there, across the large expanse of land, the curious among the dead turned and observed her. Jordan noted their physical appearance. “Native Indian, I believe.”

  Chris stepped into the marsh, inspected the ground. “I don’t see any headstones. I can’t find any markers on the ground either.”

  “You won’t. It’s a mass grave. This is not a good area, Chris. The dead here are not at rest.”

  Chris pointed to a large billboard which had been erected at the opposite end of the lot: FUTURE HOME OF BAYSIDE INDUSTRIAL PARK. “There’s your reason.”

  Jordan shook her head. “That would be a mistake. Until a shaman or holy person has sanctified this land and the ancestral remains moved to a burial place acceptable to their culture, this construction project and any structures erected on this land will be cursed. The dead will see to that.”

  “Can you ask for their help?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know you’re the psychic here, and I probably have no idea what I’m talking about, but do you think its possible that if Madelaine came through here, as you believe she did, that they were aware of her? If her presence disturbed them, do you think it’s possible they could tell us where she went?”

  Jordan considered the suggestion. “There is one particularly powerful entity here. A chief, I think. He watches over the others. I can try to connect to him. But first you’ll need to step back onto the road. Any contact with their land without his permission is disrespectful and unacceptable.”

  “I understand,” Chris said. He took his place beside Jordan, looked across the lot, then spoke to the spirits he could not see. “I apologize.”

  Jordan concentrated. The spirit of the chief stepped forward, acknowledged her. Jordan offered her condolences for the horrific act that had befallen his people and left their souls so disturbed, then asked for his guidance in locating Maddy. The chief granted her access to his people’s land, then pointed to a location on the far side of the lot. Jordan thanked him, then watched as he and his people walked away. Together they vanished, their spectral energies dissolving into the darkness of the night.

  Chris looked at her. “Well?”

  “There.” Jordan pointed to a building on the far side of the football field sized marsh.

  “Is that where your cousin is?”

  “I can’t say for certain. But it’s where I was directed.”

  “That’s a start.”

  “I say we split up,” Jordan suggested. “From what I can see of it from here, the business complex is immense. There’s far too much ground to cover. We’re better off if we divide and conquer.”

  The proposal concerned Chris. “You sure that’s a good idea? What if you need backup?”

  “I don’t think we have much of a choice. Maddy’s hurt and on the run. We need to find her before her kidnappers do. I have a terrible feeling that if we don’t, Spencer and I are never going to see her again.”

  “All right, Jordan. It’s against my better judgement, but if you feel that strongly about it then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Call Hallier,” Jordan said. “Tell him to meet you in the complex. You two cover the street. I’ll follow the fence line at the rear of the buildings where they back onto the marsh. If I find Maddy in one of the yards, I’ll call you.”

  “Copy that. Be careful, Jordan,” Chris warned. “Remember, we’re dealing with professionals here, not amateurs. Don’t let your guard down, not even for a second.”

  “Same goes for you.”

  “All right. Stay safe.”

  “I will.”

  As Chris ran down the road and disappeared around the corner into the industrial complex, a quick flash of light caught Jordan’s eye. It came from the yard to which the late Indian chief had directed her. She drew her gun. Slowly, she crossed the open field.

  A bad feeling came over her.

  Something was wrong.

  38

  ZHANG PRESSED THE muzzle of the gun against the inside door panel of the Mercedes as the unfamiliar vehicle pulled in behind him. The light from its high beams brightened the cabin of the car. He touched his brake, put the car into gear, then thought better of his decision to run and returned the vehicle to Park. He was not going to die tonight. If it came down to it, he would handle the situation right here and now. If Chang’s men were behind him and had been given orders to kill him, he would make sure he got the drop on them first. The street was poorly lit in this area, almost pitch black. He would use the darkness to his advantage. The operative who approached the vehicle on the driver’s side would not be able to see inside the car unless he turned on the cabin lights, which he was not about to do. In the killing business, surprise meant everything. He would wait them out, then make his move when the agent was most vulnerable, standing beside his door. He would send the first shot through the door panel, drop the man to the ground, then deliver the second to his head as he opened his door. First threat eliminated. From there, he would exit the car quickly and take the second operative by surprise by delivering two fatal shots at close range, the first to his head, the second to his heart. The silencer affixed to his weapon would make his attack that much more effective. After assuring his safety, he would go back home, grab the drive, make his way to the nearest U.S. embassy, and execute his escape plan. For a moment, he felt ashamed about his decision to defect from his country. But the simple fact was that he had grown to prefer life in America and now preferred it to his homeland. He had never shared his growing appeal for the nation they had been charged with bringing down with Qin. He knew her well enough to know that she was staunchly incorruptible. On more than one occasion, she had expressed her opinion about how little she thought of America. Even if he had suggested the idea of defecting to America in jest, he knew precisely how she would react. She would inform Chang of the conversation, then wait for him to give her the word. When the moment was right, when his guard was down and he least expected it, she would put a bullet in his brain. The mere suggestion that he had lost his focus would be enough to sign his death warrant. Qin would not hesitate to act out of fear of what would happen to her if the MSS ever suspected she had prior knowledge of her partner’s intention and failed to expose him. And if there was one thing he knew for certain about her it was that she never hesitated to put herself first.

  Zhang waited in the car, his every nerve on edge. For a short time, the driver remained behind the wheel, then turned off the car’s high beams and activated a second set of lights. The yellow non-emergency lights flashed from behind the grill of the car. Zhang waited. Something did not feel right. Chang’s men would never identify themselves in this manner. He lowered the gun but kept it at the ready.

  Zhang watched in his rearview mirror as the driver’s door opened. A uniformed security guard stepped out of the vehicle, turned on his flashlight. He tightened his grip on the gun as the man approached the Mercedes. When he reached the driver’s door, he tapped the flashlight against the glass and motioned for him to lower his window. Zhang complied.

  “Evening,” the security guard said.

  “Good evening, sir,” Zhang replied. “Is something the matter?” A quick glance at the man’s duty belt confirmed he was unarmed. No holster or gun.

  The guard didn’t reply. He shone his flashlight around inside the vehicle, inspecting the front and rear seats, then focused the light on Zhang’s face.

  Zhang raised his hand, turned his head. “Pardon me,” he asked, “but please don’t point that in my eyes. It’s rather uncomfortable.”

  The guard turned off the flashlight. The flashing amber lights from his service vehicle provided adeq
uate light for him to see inside the car and question the man whose strange behavior had caught his attention.

  “What are you doing here?” the guard asked.

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “You didn’t see me tailing you for the last two blocks?”

  Zhang shook his head. “No, sir. I guess I didn’t.”

  “We’ve had an increase in break-ins in the area over the past few weeks,” the guard said. “I’ve been watching you cruise up and down nearly every street in this complex for the past ten minutes. You mind telling me what it is you’re looking for?”

  Zhang hesitated. Being stopped by the guard was an unnecessary inconvenience. He had to think of a plausible excuse. Chang’s men were on their way. The rent-a-cop had no idea just how much danger he would find himself in if they arrived in the next few seconds. “It’s a little embarrassing,” he said.

  “I’m listening,” the guard said.

  “A ring.”

  “A ring?”

  Zhang nodded. “Not just any ring, actually. An engagement ring. I think I lost it somewhere around here. I was hoping to pop the question tomorrow, but without a ring—”

  “—she won’t say yes,” the guard answered.

  Zhang laughed. “You’ve got it.”

  The guard removed his baseball cap, scratched his head. “How in God’s name did you manage to lose it?” he asked.

  Zhang shrugged. “It was stupid,” he blurted out, the lie spun with ease. “I’m in international real estate, thus the diplomatic plates. I was here yesterday, scouting out the area, checking out a few businesses, saying hi to a few folks who might be ready to make a move to bigger premises, hoping to scare up a new listing or two. I stopped eight or ten times to take pictures of the properties. I took my jacket off at some point, but do you think I can remember where that was? No, sir. Anyway, I had the ring box and my business card case in the same pocket. I took them both out for just a second and put them on the roof. I know. Dumb, right? I was planning to put the ring in the glove box. But then I got a phone call from a client I’d been waiting to hear from. I must have gotten excited or something because after I hung up, I hopped in the car and drove back to the office for a meeting. Never gave a second thought to the fact that the ring box and card case were sitting on the roof. As soon as I stuck my hand in my pocket to grab a business card and realized the case wasn’t there, I put two and two together. I nearly had a heart attack. I paid twenty grand for that ring. Twenty grand! So now I’m out here searching every street I’ve driven down since yesterday, trying to retrace my steps, hoping it was here that I lost it and not someplace else, when what I’d rather be doing is sitting at home on my couch watching the Dodgers beat the crap out of Padres and putting back a brewski or two.”