by T E Stouyer
But instead of running away, he stopped and swiveled around to face the street. It wasn’t that he particularly cared what happened to Mitsuki, or that he believed she had somehow become their ally. But the idea of abandoning someone who had just helped him out of a tight spot simply didn’t sit well with him. He looked around, trying to come up with a way to help her in return.
There was a weapon lying in the middle of the road, next to the downed masked man. But it was too far. The other two would gun him down before he could get to it.
Jenkins spotted the giant standing in the shadows across the road, carrying Ashrem on his shoulder. He made a move towards them, but was immediately forced back by Mitsuki.
Meanwhile, the two masked men had begun maneuvering to flank the young woman’s position.
“Why haven’t you left yet?” Mitsuki shouted, in a poised but firm voice. “Get Ash out of here. Please.”
It finally occurred to Rock that him lingering around only made the situation more difficult for her. “Dammit!” he cursed, his mind finally set on running away. But as he was about to leave, he met Jenkins’ gaze.
For a brief moment, the two men silently stared at each other from across the road.
“Uh-oh,” the giant said as he observed a change in Jenkins’ expression.
Realizing he was about to lose his precious prisoners, Jenkins grew enraged. He placed his hands underneath the car that shielded him and flipped it on its side. Then, using only one hand, he pushed against the vehicle and spun it around by ninety degrees.
Rock gave a quizzical look. At this point, he was well past being surprised at Jenkins’ inexplicable strength, but he didn’t understand what the man hoped to accomplish. Granted, the car now covered half the width of the road, and provided greater protection from Mitsuki’s frustrating blocking-fire, but it still wasn’t enough to reach the other side. Is he planning to make a run for it anyway? Rock wondered.
Suddenly, the giant’s eyes widened as he understood Jenkins’ intention. He wasn’t trying to cross the road. He wanted to retrieve the gun he had tossed away moments earlier. Jenkins couldn’t get to his weapon before. But now, he could safely cross the nine or ten feet that separated him from it.
“Uh-oh,” Rock said once again, but in a louder, more distressed tone of voice. He held on tightly to his load and took off.
The big mercenary was deceptively fast for a guy his size, due to the long strides he took with each step. By the time Jenkins recovered his gun and put the magazine back inside, Rock and Ashrem had vanished inside the dark alley.
Chapter 5 – Emergency
After rummaging through the upside-down van, Rock crawled back out of the vehicle, careful to avoid the shards of glass scattered around him. He emerged feet first from the passenger side—it was easier to get out from there since Jenkins had removed the door.
He had found his gun.
He quickly looked over it to make sure it wasn’t jammed or hadn’t otherwise been damaged during the crash.
Then, he got up and listened.
He could still hear an exchange of gunfire. Good, he thought. That means she hasn’t been captured or killed.
Instead of running clear of Jenkins and his henchmen, the mercenary had circled around the block and returned to his crashed van. Now that he had gotten Ashrem away from the fighting, and recovered his handgun, he intended to go help Mitsuki.
But Rock could also hear the police sirens approaching from the hotel, in response to all the gunshots. It wouldn’t be long before they arrived, making any rescue attempt on his part even more foolhardy.
“Argh, to hell with it!” the giant exclaimed. He glanced at Ashrem who was still unconscious—he had placed the young man on the curb with his back resting against a parking meter. “Hang in there, buddy, I’ll be back in a sec.”
But Rock had barely taken a few steps when he heard the horn of a vehicle.
He swiftly turned around, with his gun raised, and saw an ambulance drive up to him and stop in the middle of the road.
The ambulance’s side door slid open and Doc Chen appeared. “Come on, Rock. Get in!”
“Doc! What are you …? Never mind that,” said the giant. “We gotta go help the girl, she’s—”
“What are you babbling on about?” Doc interrupted. “We came all the way back here to get you and Ashrem. Carson and his goons won’t be far behind, and the police are converging on this area. We gotta go. Now!”
The giant hesitated for a second and said, “Argh, crap!” He tucked away his gun, ran to the curb to pick up Ashrem, and jumped into the back of the vehicle.
As soon as both men were inside, Doc slammed the door shut and the ambulance rocketed down the road.
“What happened to Da Costa?” Rock asked when he saw his comrade lying on his back with a bandage around his torso.
“We ran into a few problems at the hotel,” said Doc. “He was shot during our escape.”
“How bad is it?”
“It’s bad,” Doc replied in a grave voice.
“Your turn, big guy,” said the driver. “What happened to Ash? Was it Darius?”
Rock turned his head and saw Soran shooting glances at him in the rear-view mirror.
“No, it was that rough-looking guy,” said the giant. “The one who’s supposed to track all of you down.”
“Track us down? … you mean Jenkins?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
An expression of utter disbelief formed on Soran’s face. “Jenkins did that? … to Ashrem?” It sounded so unbelievable to the young man that he found it hard to even formulate the question.
“I know,” said Rock. “I was just as shocked as you are. That Jenkins fellow is as tough as a tank. And he’s got some major anger issues. I don’t know what you guys did to him, but I don’t think he likes you very much. He almost killed your brother for no good reason.”
Soran turned silent. He kept his eyes fixed on the road as he tried to make sense of what he had just learned.
“You were saying something about a girl?” Doc asked.
Rock lowered his eyes. “Yeah, it’s that little Asian chick. She’s the reason I was able to get away. She asked me to get Ashrem outta there. I think she was still shooting it out with Jenkins and his men. That’s why I wanted to go back for her.”
Upon hearing this, Soran stomped on the brake so abruptly that his passengers at the back were sent tumbling towards the front of the vehicle.
Despite the heavy police presence, Doc’s group had managed to leave the cordoned-off area and had made it into the general traffic. So when the ambulance suddenly stopped, the car behind it came to within inches of crashing into its rear bumper.
What followed was a loud chorus of car horns, until traffic eventually diverted around the halted vehicle. But this being Paris, the first few motorists didn’t miss the opportunity to yell and curse at the irresponsible ambulance driver as they passed by.
A sentiment shared by someone inside the vehicle.
“What the hell, man?” Rock shouted at Soran.
“We have to go back,” said the young man. “We can’t leave Mitsuki there.”
Doc had bumped his head against the back of the driver’s seat, and was now right behind Soran. He turned around, half-stood up, and said, “Calm down.”
“She’ll get caught,” said Soran. “Or worse.”
“Please, calm down,” Doc repeated. “Think about it for a second. The police were on their way. So was Carson and his men. And with Da Costa and Ashrem out of commission, it’s just the three of us, now. If we rush in blindly, not only will we not save your sister, we’ll end up getting captured as well.”
Soran nodded towards Rock. “What about what he just said? What if Jenkins tries to kill her?”
“I don’t think he will,” Rock replied. “During our fight, it was like he lost control or something. But when his men arrived, he told them to take us prisoner. If he really wanted Ashrem dead, or me, they could have s
imply shot us on the spot.”
Doc placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder and said in a reassuring voice, “Leicester wants all of you back at that secret compound, right? And Jenkins takes his orders from Leicester. They won’t hurt your sister. You’ll have a chance to get her back.”
Soran closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he placed his hands on the wheel and got the ambulance moving again.
Doc gave the young man a tap on the shoulder, and then went to check on Da Costa.
After another quick examination, Doc looked up and said, “We need to get him to a hospital. Soon.”
“A hospital?” Rock exclaimed. “For all we know, half the city could be looking for us. What if they arrest him?”
“We don’t have a choice,” said Doc. “The bullet’s still inside. Someone needs to extract it and determine the extent of the internal damage.”
“Can’t you do it at the house?” Rock suggested. “I’m sure that old man will be able to help you.”
“It’s too far,” said Doc. “He won’t last that long.”
“It’s OK, guys,” Da Costa said in a weak voice. “Just drop me off.”
Rock frowned at his wounded comrade. “What do you mean drop you off?” He then turned to Doc. “We’re not going to abandon him too, are we?”
“You said it yourself,” Doc replied. “Half the city could be looking for us. What do you suggest we do? Hang around in the waiting room for hours, drinking coffee while we wait for him to get out of surgery?”
The giant pursed his lips and looked away. He knew his comrade was right.
“Do you know if there are any hospitals nearby?” Doc asked Soran.
“Yeah, there’s one not far from here.”
A short time later, the ambulance pulled into the parking lot of a hospital in Neuilly-sur-Seine—to the west of Paris—and stopped about fifty feet away from the emergency entrance.
Rock and Doc Chen alighted from the vehicle and carefully rolled Da Costa out on a gurney.
Soran got out as well, and went to help them.
“All right,” said Doc as the gurney unfolded onto the concrete. “You guys wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Rock nodded at his injured comrade and said, “Hang tight, man. We’ll come back for you.”
“I know,” said Da Costa.
“Come on, we need to move,” said Doc as he rolled the gurney towards the emergency entrance.
Rock followed the two men with his gaze as they went into the hospital. While Soran climbed into the back of the ambulance to check on Ashrem.
The on-guard receptionist looked up as the entrance doors slid open. When he saw a man in a black tuxedo pushing someone on a gurney, he jumped from his seat and ran around the counter to meet them.
“What happened?” the receptionist asked in French.
“Do you speak English?” Doc asked him.
“Yes.”
“He was shot. He needs surgery.”
At that moment, a female nurse walked into the reception area, holding two cups of coffee. At first, she paused in surprise when she found that her colleague was no longer at his post. Then, she jumped on the spot, nearly dropping her cups, when she saw him running towards her at full speed.
The receptionist rushed back to his counter and picked up a phone.
“What’s going on?” the nurse asked, a little rattled.
“Someone was shot,” the receptionist told her as he nodded towards the entrance.
She turned and saw the injured man and his companion.
Without saying another word, the nurse left her cups on the counter and ran back the way she had come.
Doc listened closely as the receptionist spoke into the phone with some urgency. Although his French wasn’t good enough to exactly make out what the man was saying, Doc was still able to get the gist of it.
Just as the receptionist hung up the phone, the nurse returned, accompanied by two men in green scrubs.
“Did you talk to the doctor?” she asked.
“Yes,” said the receptionist. “He’ll meet you in the surgical unit.”
Meanwhile, the men in scrubs had placed an oxygen mask over Da Costa’s face and were setting up an IV for him.
“Don’t worry,” the nurse said to the man in the tuxedo. “We’ll take good care of your friend.”
Without waiting for a reply, she and her two colleagues in green scrubs rolled the patient away and disappeared into the hallway.
The receptionist approached Doc and said, “Can you tell me what happened?”
Doc explained that the injured man was a waiter at a hotel where he had attended an event. And that, as he was leaving, the waiter had run after him to return his wallet, which had fallen from his pocket. Next thing he knew, shots were fired and the waiter was hit. They were already near his car, so he had carried the waiter inside and had driven him to the hospital. When he had arrived, he had noticed an ambulance in the parking lot. He had taken a gurney from the vehicle and had used it to carry the waiter inside.
The hospital’s staff had already been informed that there had been an incident at a prominent hotel in the district of La Défense—although they didn’t know any of the details—so the receptionist accepted Doc’s account of events without reservation.
Sensing the receptionist was satisfied with his explanation, Doc decided it was time to leave. His prolonged presence posed a risk to both him and Da Costa.
But as he started to walk away, the hospital employee motioned for him to wait. “If you don’t mind, sir. I need you to fill out a form.”
Doc feigned a twinge of annoyance as he pulled out his phone and checked the time. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I need to get going. I have a plane to catch.”
“I understand, sir. But this will only take a minute. It’s procedure.”
The receptionist walked back to his counter and leaned over to grab the form. But as he picked up the sheet of paper stuck to the wooden clipboard, he heard the entrance doors slide open again.
He promptly turned around.
The man in the tuxedo was gone.
Chapter 6 – Hospital
Later that night, inside the same hospital, Doctor Philippe Laplace walked into the waiting area of his unit on the fifth floor. He was a plump man, in his mid-fifties, with short dark hair and a perfect tan, and he wore thin glasses.
When she saw him, Marie Heirtmeyer jumped out of her seat and rushed over to him.
“Doctor, I was told the surgery went well?” she asked in a pressing tone.
He smiled. “Yes, your friend will be fine. I just checked up on him. I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you earlier, but I had another emergency.”
Marie breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome, Miss. He was very lucky. Five or six more centimeters to the right, and the blade would have punctured his heart.”
“Can I see him?” she asked.
“Of course. As a matter of fact, he’s been asking for you. Room 508. Turn left and follow the corridor all the way to the end. But please, keep it brief. He needs to rest.”
She thanked the doctor once again and then headed down the hallway.
It was long past visiting hours, only a few night-shift employees—nurses and janitors—could be seen wandering around.
Marie arrived at a hallway junction.
There was a station tended by a man and a woman, who were chatting and giggling together. They barely glanced at the detective as she walked past them.
Marie proceeded straight down and arrived in front of room 508.
She paused for a long while before she finally knocked on the door.
“Come in,” a weak voice answered.
Marie slowly opened the door and went inside.
The room was a little small, but not cramped, and had a large window covered by white blinders. There were two single-beds, separated by an olive-green curtain, but only one of them was
occupied. Next to each bed was a side drawer, a long-arm lamp, and a sliding tray table.
Hans was lying on the bed nearest to the entrance, tucked inside green and white sheets. There was a needle inserted into his right arm, attached to an IV bag filled with a transparent liquid.
“You should see the other guy,” he joked.
“I’m so sorry, Hans,” Marie said in a meek voice.
“Don’t give me that, partner. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“How about almost getting you killed?”
“That wasn’t your fault, Marie. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“We both know that’s not true,” she said.
“It’s nobody’s fault,” Hans insisted. “No one could have anticipated that … whatever that was. In all my years as a detective, I’ve never seen anything like it. Who were those guys? And how could they do … what they did?”
Marie shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it, either.”
They stared at each other in silence for a while.
Suddenly, Marie felt her purse vibrate. She took out her cell phone and checked the caller ID number.
“Let me guess,” said Hans. “It’s the pride of the Berlin Police Department.”
Marie cracked a faint smile as she answered her phone. “What is it, Jordi?
…
You know I’m not here for sightseeing.
…
You were able to narrow down the location linked to the email? That’s great!
…
Quimper? How do you spell that?
…
Don’t worry, I’ll find it. Thanks, Jordi. I really owe you one. What’s that? Hans? He’s erm …”
Marie considered telling Jordi that her partner had been stabbed, and that, having undergone surgery, he was now lying in a hospital bed.
But Hans pre-empted her before she committed the irreparable. “What’s the matter?” he said, in as loud and steady a voice as he could manage. “Is Jordi starting to miss me already? Put him on speaker.”
Hans had witnessed first-hand Jordi’s flimsy poker face. It had taken a grand total of ninety seconds for him to get the IT technician to admit that Marie hadn’t really gone on some random vacation.