by E B Corbin
She had no need for a new phone, but there were two newer versions since she’d purchased the one in her purse. Perhaps she should get one or two. Henry could use a new phone too. It would be more convenient if they were both on the same plan.
A bump from behind distracted her as she picked up the latest model. She tried to elbow the person intruding on her space but found her arm caught in a firm grip. She jerked in an attempt to break the hold.
Fingers tightened around her elbow. As she started to turn to protest, she felt a prick on her neck. What the hell?
The room began to spin and darkness closed in from the sides. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out before she slumped against the broad shoulders holding her upright.
That was the last thing she remembered.
Henry had become so engrossed in ordering a model with all the features he wanted, he never took notice of the buzzing in his head until it overpowered his ability to think. The sensation sent shivers through his body, like a dentist’s drill working on a bad cavity.
He spun around searching for Sam, but couldn’t locate her in the teeming crowd. He left the clerk standing open-mouthed and pushed through the people clogging the aisles, scanning the store for Sam.
His brain beat a crescendo in his head with every passing second. Finally, he spotted her blonde hair outside. She leaned against a hulking presence who was leading her toward a black van idling at the curb.
Henry ran through the store, paying no attention to the dirty looks he received from those he shoved out of his way and ignoring the call of the clerk about his purchase. He reached the sidewalk in time to see the truck pull away, moving down the street through heavy traffic.
When a taxi pulled to the curb to drop off a passenger, Henry jumped in the front seat without hesitation. The cab driver started to protest, but Henry cut him off. “There’s a hundred bucks in it for you if you can catch that black van in the next block.”
Without a word, the cabbie stomped on the gas and threaded through the congestion, avoiding a bumper here and a fender there with a skill developed from years of practice.
They were one block behind the truck at a stoplight when the driver asked, “What do you want me to do once we catch them?”
Between the pounding in his head and the panic at losing Sam, Henry had been so intent on keeping the van in sight, he had to stop and think. The van had two windows in the back door allowing them to see the passengers. Judging by the way Sam’s head lolled around in the back seat of the van, Henry feared she’d be no help. He’d have to wait to make a move until they stopped at their destination.
“Stay back. Just follow them and try not to let them see us.”
The driver nodded and floored it when the light turned green. Henry’s head snapped back from the momentum. He hoped this guy knew what he was doing and they wouldn’t end up a Portland traffic accident statistic.
Meanwhile, the buzzing nearly drove him crazy. When the buzzing first started, he’d gone to a doctor who told him it was tension and gave him a prescription for heavy-duty Tylenol. Henry had never bothered getting the scrip filled.
He knew it wasn’t tension, but he didn’t believe in that psychic shit either. Right now, he wished he could somehow control it, even though he knew the only thing that would help was eliminating the danger to Sam.
He curled his hands into fists and tried to relax as they wove through the streets, following the van. His Beretta dug into his hip from its position in the holster at his waist. He pulled his jacket closed to keep it hidden and squirmed in the seat.
The cab driver appeared to be a Native American with his broad face and tobacco skin. He wore his thick black hair tied back with a rubber band. It was impossible to tell his age from his unlined face but his eyes exuded a timeless wisdom as he glanced at Henry. “You need to calm down, man. We won’t lose them. But I might need more than a hundred bucks.”
Henry let out a sigh. The man was worried about money. “Fine, two hundred, three hundred depending on how far we go.”
The driver nodded his agreement, his ponytail working its way out of his collar with each bob of his head.
“That’s only if you don’t lose them,” Henry added.
The cabbie smiled. “We won’t lose them. Tracking is what my people have done for many moons.”
Henry raised his eyebrows. “That’s kind of a cliché, isn’t it?”
“It became a cliché because it’s true.”
Henry didn’t argue the point. His hands pounded against his legs as he craned his neck to keep the van in sight.
“You need to calm down,” the driver repeated. “It will be fine.”
“I’m not so sure of that. My boss is in that truck and I need to get to her.”
The cab cut in front of a school bus with inches to spare. “I sense it is more than that.”
“She’s in trouble.”
“And you know this because your spirit guide is telling you so.” The driver spoke with certainty, his voice rumbling from his chest.
Henry slanted him a wary look and blurted out, “The ringing in my head is telling me so!”
“That is the manifestation of your spirit guide.”
“It’s a goddammed buzzing that starts when danger is imminent!” Henry didn’t know why he let it slip to this stranger when he had never mentioned it to another soul his entire life. “I can’t get rid of it until the threat passes.”
The driver lowered his chin in a knowing nod. “It is part of your spiritual path.”
“It’s no spiritual path. It’s just a pain in the ass.”
“You must accept the path of transformation to become enlightened.”
“Right now, I want a path to help me get Sam out of that truck.”
“You will accomplish that goal. Never fear.”
“I’m not as sure of that as you seem to be.”
“When I met you last night in my dream, you were confused and scared. Together, we overcame your insecurities and accomplished your goal. I did not know what it meant at the time, but I now know we were meant to meet. And we will save this Sam person of whom you speak.”
“Okaaaay.” Henry did a mental eye roll and cursed his luck at getting a driver who must be high on peyote. He cleared his throat. “Look . . . um . . . what’s your name, anyway?”
“On my license it is Jim Miller, but you may call me White Cloud.”
Great. Now he was talking to cotton balls in the sky. “Look, White Cloud, I just need you to keep that truck in sight. I don’t need any spiritual advice.”
White Cloud never took his eyes off the road. “You are in denial. You need to embrace your awakening path.”
“Right now I need to embrace the path leading to those guys in the van.”
“How long have you been receiving the spiritual sign?”
Henry sighed. This guy wasn’t going to drop his mumbo jumbo. “Since I was around eighteen.”
“You need to accept the sign of your awakening. In my dream, I was not able to get you to understand. When you jumped into my cab, I saw my second chance.”
Henry wished he had jumped into another cab at the Apple Store, but he accepted his fate, sat back, and kept his eye on the van. “They’re signaling for a left turn.”
“I know.” White Cloud passed the truck on the right, not slowing.
“What are you doing?” Henry yelled.
White Cloud remained calm. “We will turn in the next block. You will see, I won’t lose them.”
Not wanting to divert the cabbie’s attention from driving, Henry fell silent and forced himself to still his thumping legs. He grabbed the dashboard when they swung into a U-turn with a squeal and stopped dead in the middle of the block. White Cloud pulled to the side of the road and put the vehicle in park.
The black van was nowhere in sight.
“Dammit! You lost them!”
Chapter Fourteen
White Cloud remained serene and pointed through the windshi
eld. “They are in the rear of the Wendy’s parking lot.”
Henry spotted the tail end of the van sticking out between a Ford Explorer and a tiny compact Fiat. Two men were walking away from the vehicle, casting backward glances every few steps.
One reminded him of the Incredible Hulk. Not the old television Hulk, the new one in the Avengers movies, except he wasn’t green. His ruddy complexion highlighted a pale scar down his left cheek that gave his face a chilling aspect. The sweat-stained baseball cap pulled low did little to hide his fierce expression.
He strutted to the fast-food entrance, his muscled arms stuck out at an angle from his body, his legs bowed. A mother grabbed her toddler to keep him from running into the man’s tree-trunk legs.
His friend was as wiry as the Hulk was muscled. Henry hated going up against those lean, limber types more so than the bulky, muscled ones. His Seal team members built like that had moved fast and silently with hidden strength. He should know, he was one of them.
The two men took one last glance at the van before they entered the building. A ripple of fear pulsed through Henry even as the droning in his head remained steady. They must have left Sam alone in the truck. Since the van had tinted windows all the way around, she had to be unconscious for them to take the chance. Unconscious or . . . the alternative was unacceptable to even consider.
Henry jumped out of the cab and sprinted across the street, taking care to stay out of sight of the Wendy’s windows. As he approached the truck, he saw no sign of Sam. What the hell did they do with her?
His panic forced him to break into a run, which led to him cutting in front of a car pulling into the lot. The driver leaned on his horn and threw Henry the finger, but Henry ignored it, intent on reaching the van.
He peeked in the rear window and saw a still form under a large black plastic bag. Those bastards covered Sam like a piece of trash before they left her. She could suffocate in there.
In his anger, he reached for the door handle, but caught himself a second before he touched it. If the truck had an alarm, it would go off while he stood useless before the locked vehicle. The chances were good that even the idiots driving the truck would not leave it unlocked with a kidnap victim in the rear. He fisted his hands at his side and fought off the urge to scream while he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
In desperation, he looked around for a large rock. If he could break a window and unlock the door, then maybe he could grab Sam before the kidnappers made it out of Wendy’s. But where could he hide with Sam’s dead weight in his arms?
He made up his mind before he could talk himself out of it. He’d find a place, he had no choice. He picked up a landscaping stone about as big around as a dinner plate and heaved it over his head at the window. Glass shattered, the horn began to honk, and a siren began to wail.
In his peripheral vision, he noted the two men exiting the fast-food joint with bags and extra-large drink cups in their hands. They stopped, glancing around the parking lot for the source of the noise while Henry ducked into the rear seat and pulled the plastic from Sam’s head.
With her hands zip-tied behind her, she lay curled in an awkward position, eyes closed, breathing even. Lightning fast, Henry slid his Bowie knife out of its sheath at his waist and slit the ties at her wrists and ankles, dividing his attention between freeing Sam and keeping an eye on the two kidnappers.
He noticed the instant they realized the alarm came from their truck. They looked at one another, gripped their food bags, and began to run across the blacktop, stopping dead when a green taxi cut them off.
White Cloud braked in front of the van and leaned across to throw the passenger door open. Henry bundled Sam into his arms and stayed low as he flung himself into the taxi with Sam held tight on his lap.
The cabbie shot through the rear entrance to a small side street before Henry had time to shut the door, which slammed shut on its own as the taxi picked up speed.
He twisted to see the two goons trying to run and dodge the cars lining up at the drive-thru window. They held their food bags and drinks high as they snaked between idling vehicles. Henry guessed their lunch was too important for them to lose and his estimate of their intelligence—not very high to begin with—went down a notch.
The bleating of the truck alarm dimmed as the cab turned a corner and raced down a street toward the river. He rearranged Sam’s inert body on his lap, ignoring stares from the few pedestrians they passed, who appeared shocked to see three people in the front seat of the taxi. They shouldn’t go far like this, it drew too much attention.
White Cloud must have had the same thought because he zipped around another corner and into a parking lot crowded with employee vehicles. He drove toward a two-story red brick building with slits for windows and double metal doors serving as an entrance. The words “Pierce Manufacturing” were plastered across the top in faded white paint. The cabbie jerked to a stop behind a dumpster off to the side near the river.
“Thanks,” Henry muttered. “You didn’t have to do that. I need to find a place to put Sam down and I’ll pay you. We can get an Uber from here.”
The taxi driver shook his head. “Put her in the back seat. I will take you where you want go.”
“I can’t ask you to get involved in our trouble. I should take Sam to a hospital.”
“She doesn’t need a hospital. Whatever drug they used is wearing off. I sense her spirit reviving.”
When Henry focused on Sam, he noticed her breathing seemed easier. “Sam. Sam, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”
She sighed and snuggled her head into his shoulder but didn’t respond further.
“She will come around soon,” White Cloud said. “But she should rest in her own bed today.”
The thought of waiting behind a dumpster for an Uber held little appeal but Henry hated to take advantage of White Cloud. He reached for the door handle. “You should take off. I’ll call for a ride.”
White Cloud touched his arm. “Put her in the back. We’ve come this far, I might as well accompany you the rest of the way. My spirit guide would be unsettled if I did not.”
Because it would be easier on Sam, Henry slid out, holding her close to his chest. His grip loosened as he placed her in the rear seat. He ignored the seat belt, instead tucking her legs up to close the door.
Henry climbed in the front, glancing at the cabbie. “I don’t know. Nothing against your ‘spirit guide’ and all that, but maybe we should take her to an emergency room.”
A weak voice came from the back. “No hospital.”
Henry swung around as the taxi pulled away from the building and headed for the street. “You’re awake!”
Sam’s whole body quivered as she tried to leverage up in the back seat. “My head feels fuzzy and hurts like hell, but I think I’ll be fine. Where are we? What happened?”
“Those two goons in the van grabbed you.”
Sam rubbed her temples in a circular motion with her fingers, trying to recall her last lucid moment. “I remember checking out the new iPhones, feeling a prick on my neck, and then . . . nothing.”
“They drugged you.” Henry stated the obvious. “I still think we should have you checked out by doctors.”
“Later.” Sam touched the tender spot on her neck where she remembered the pinprick. “If I have any problems.”
“You have a strong spirit guide. You will be fine.” White Cloud said.
Sam frowned, pointed to the driver and mouthed to Henry. “Who is that?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Sam meet White Cloud. He helped with your rescue. White Cloud, this is my boss, Sam Turner.”
A smile broke through Sam’s disorientation. “White Cloud? You’re named after toilet paper?”
The driver grinned for the first time since Henry met him. “It is unfortunate, but it is a fact due to the circumstances of my birth.”
“Hmmm…” Sam had no words. She twisted her mouth as she raised her shoulders to Henry. She wan
ted to ask if this guy was for real, but she knew better than to ridicule the person who’d helped Henry. “How did you two hook up?”
Henry answered quickly before White Cloud brought up dreams, spirit guides, and other such nonsense. “His taxi arrived just as the van pulled away. I jumped in and told him to follow them.”
“Well, thank you for your help, White Cloud. Sounds like you showed up just in time.”
“It was destined.” White Cloud kept to smaller back streets, but nevertheless glanced often in his rearview mirror. “I will take you home, but I need to know where you’re staying.”
Henry gave him the address and slumped in the front. Sam felt worn out from the small conversation and was happy to sit back and shut her eyes.
She opened them again when the taxi pulled up in front of the Ladd Building.
Henry counted out three hundred dollars and slipped the bills into White Cloud’s hand. “Thank you, again.”
“Wait.” White Cloud dug through his pockets until he came up with a tattered business card printed with his name and phone number. “Call me when you need my services in the future.”
“Thanks, but . . . ,” Sam started.
The taxi driver silenced her with a hand gesture. “We will meet again, whether you wish it or not.”
Henry looked at the card, grunted, and put it in his jacket pocket. He slid out and opened the rear door for Sam.
She hated showing weakness, but her arms and legs felt stiff and refused to move smoothly. She accepted Henry’s hand to pull her from the seat.
“Remember,” White Cloud said to Henry. “Do not fight your spirit guide. Acknowledge your gift.”
“Will do.” Henry slammed the door shut to cut off any further advice from the cabbie. He balanced Sam on the sidewalk and raised his hand in a good-bye wave. “Thanks for the help.”
The green taxi waited at the curb until Henry and Sam had entered the lobby, and then eased into the stream of traffic.
Sam leaned on Henry more than she would have liked, but she didn’t have the strength to walk on her own. “What was that all about?”