The Random Affair
Page 17
Jordan got to his feet and sprinted for the door. Slash and Bubba had made it outside and were almost to the parking lot. Jordan fired his P7M. The usual thunder sounded, putting the lobby into an even greater sense of panic. The bullet pierced the glass door and frosted it. He jumped through the weaken glass. Shards went everywhere. Shaking off the particles of glass, Jordan saw his targets weaving in and out of the parked cars. He went for another shot, but they were too far away with people thrown in for good measure. He watched them reached their destination, a SUV – A big ass black Chevy Suburban - about thirty yards away across the parking lot. Jordan could hear the engine strain as it sped to the Grand Boulevard exit. Afternoon lunch traffic filled the boulevard, making it difficult for the Suburban to get to full speed.
Jordan smiled. He jogged to his car, which was in the first row of the parking lot. He jumped in and started it. All five hundred horses at his command came alive with an animal-like roar at the turn of the ignition.
“Oh, yeah.”
Chapter Seventeen: The Chase
Once out of the parking lot, Jordan dodged in and out of traffic like it was standing still. He got some horn honks and screams for his trouble but soon he was on the bumper of his target.
He shook his head in disbelief. From out of the passenger window, an arm with a gun appeared. He didn’t think anyone actually shot at moving vehicles other than TV. It wasn’t as easy as it looked. A series of bullets flew, and his car was hit only once, on the roof. The worst thing that happened was the paint job was messed up. Jordan had long ago had the Vette bulletproofed. It was good to have friends in the government who knew about such things.
Jordan didn’t want to endanger other people on the streets, just because Bubba and Slash thought they were in an action movie. He backed off enough so no shot presented itself to his query. The gunman disappeared back in the car just as the vehicle sped up. The Suburban dodged between a couple of slow moving cars in an attempt to lose its pursuer. It failed as Jordan’s years of military training allowed him to easily stay a few seconds behind. Combat driving, as it is called, is a skill not soon forgotten.
The Suburban fast approached Grand River, a main artery. Jordan hoped the pair would continue on Grand Boulevard. It was a tighter street and would have fewer opportunities for the SUV to weave in and out. Jordan whispered a silent prayer as the SUV neared the wide street. But the god of private detectives had other plans as the vehicle made a right and zoomed onto Grand River. The big vehicle lumbered across three lanes and into oncoming traffic. Angry horns sounded as the truck-like thing dodged its way back to its side of the street. Jordan approached the intersection and with the precision of an expert driver, slipped into traffic without so much as a tire squeal.
Once, in a bygone age, Grand River in the afternoon would have been bumper to bumper traffic. Now it was the automotive equivalent of a ghost town. Everybody used the freeways if they were moving through Detroit. That made things easier, but there was still Livernois – another main street fast approaching. If they got to it on a green light, everything would be cool. If not, well, there was bound to be some traffic meeting them. It was too late to do anything. Jordan was committed. No way he let these two get away. Not with the crush. Not after what they did to E-Man. And Jackie. No way.
Desperation must have set in and the Suburban passenger took more shots. Again, the bullets bounced harmlessly off the pavement.
Jordan’s plan was to just follow the Suburban. No way a corvette, no matter how modified was going to force this tank off the road. Beside, like gunplay in moving cars, that sort of thing only happened in the movies. Jordan’s chief concern was innocent motorists. The biggest danger was hitting someone not involved in the chase.
Livernois approached. Jordan looked pass the Suburban. Green light! Good. Now he had more time to think of a way to end this chase. The SUV sped through the intersection – the Vette, a second behind. Jordan dropped the car into fourth to coax some more RPMs out of the engine. He was just about to mash down the gas when a car crossed into the intersection from out of nowhere.
Brake!
Jordan turned the wheel hard and put the Vette into a spin. He clenched his teeth - nothing else to do. It was in God’s hands now. Either he’d hit the car or he wouldn’t. The tires screamed in protest and stopped.
He opened his eyes and, amazingly, both he and the car were in one piece. The silence after the wailing tires was eerie. His heartbeat played at a mad pace in his ear. He looked through his window and into the window of the car he just missed. The SUV sped away. No way he could catch them now.
Jordan’s corvette had come to a stop facing north on Livernois, while the car he had nearly collided with was nosed southward. He looked to see whom he had nearly killed. Surprised was too mild a word to described the emotion as he saw Special Agents Tom Stiles and William Thomas of the Central Intelligence Agency.
The adrenaline fueling Jordan’s speedy pursuit instantly turned into anger. He leapt from his car as the two agents did likewise.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jordan shouted as he approached Stiles. William Thomas stepped in Jordan’s path to stop him.
“Hey, pal,” Thomas said, “take it -”
The black agent never got a chance to finish his sentence as Jordan, without breaking stride, executed a judo move and put Thomas on his backside.
“Well?” Jordan asked, now in Stiles’ face. The veteran CIA man was like stone. No concern, no anger – just an unnerving calm. Jordan stayed nose to nose, eye-to-eye with Stiles right in the middle of Grand River and Livernois.
“I told you,” Stiles gravel voice said, “not to get involve with this. This is a government matter.”
“That’s bullshit!” Jordan said. “Why don’t you just come out with it? What the hell is the C I fucking A doing being involved with a domestic issue? Does this have to do with the fact that Random use to work for you?”
That got a reaction out of Stiles. His eyes narrowed and he drew back a fist. He stopped in mid-swing. “Dammit, Noble! Have you lost your fucking mind? Didn’t the Air Force teach you anything about sensitive information? I can’t believe all those years in Defense Intelligence didn’t make you any smarter than this!” Stiles looked around but no one was close enough to hear them, except for Thomas who was picking himself off the ground. Drivers begun to make their way around the knot of cars in the middle of the intersection. None of the cars could decide who went first.
“Look,” Stiles said, “don’t let the fact that Random’s pal, Small is screwing your ex-girlfriend cloud your judgment.” Jordan flinched a little. He leaned in and Stiles met him halfway. “Jesus, man. Be a goddamn professional for one second. What the hell are you doing? Burning down buildings? Gunfights in the middle of crowds? And in a damn hospital? What? You didn’t think we figure out it was you?”
“We didn’t set that fire,” Jordan said. He felt the shakes coming on, now the excitement was over.
“Do you really think I give a shit?” Stiles shouted. “Think with your head and not your dick for a second. I mean, for God’s sake, look around!” Stiles waved his hand to the traffic snarled to halt since their near collision. Jordan was silent and more than a little embarrassed. When put all together, Jordan’s actions did seem insane. Here he was a licensed private detective, former military intelligence officer, causing havoc and hell all over the city just to catch Cody Random. It wasn’t his job, was it? Hell, he didn’t even have a client. Could this mayhem be contributed to an over inflated sense of justice. Or was it the personal issues? The fact that Cody Random was an old case and out now spreading murder and violence? Or was Stiles right? Was it the fact Kevin Small was intimate with Robin? The woman Jordan loved and still loved after all these years. Jordan couldn’t honestly answer. He was embarrassed and anger Stiles said these things to him. He knew whatever he said would just be an attempt to project that anger and would only make matters
worse. All said, it didn’t mean he had to answer to the CIA. His response to Stiles was unyielding silence.
Stiles said, “Look, get out of here. There are matters that you just don’t know about. Yes, it involves Random’s former, and I stress, former, association with us. Let it go, Noble. You’re going to get into trouble.”
Stiles walked around his car to the passenger side. As he got in, he said, “Get out of here, before the cops arrive.”
Thomas bumped Jordan as he got back into the driver’s seat, Jordan watched them both as they drove away in the same direction down Grand River the Suburban vanished. Jordan wanted desperately to hate them - to blame them for all this mess. But, he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure Stiles wasn’t wrong. Jordan became aware of the fact that he was blocking traffic and horns screaming at him. Drivers angled around the Vette and more than one gave Jordan the finger. He sighed, defeated. He got back in the car and headed back to the hospital to check on his friends.
Chapter Eighteen: A Cold, Dark Place
Robin scanned the restaurant, searching for Kevin Small. He was late. She couldn’t understand why. He knew how important this date was. After the disaster at the Cobo Center, Robin felt less than secure about their new business, Unlimiteds. They needed the revenue the show was supposed to generate. They needed the exposure. And now, nothing good could come from an association with the show. The Detroit News had already splashed it across the front page. Every local news program was going on about the ‘chilling effect’ the disturbance was having on Southeast Michigan clothing industry. Twitter, Facebook and Instagram got in on the act. All this was true. Detroit was no New York when it came to fashion. This was going to be a much-needed break to put them on the map. The Fashion Gala wasn’t a cheap affair. And now, it was all ruined. Thanks to Jordan Noble.
Of course, Jordan’s involvement only made Robin more uncomfortable. Since their breakup, she had been very lucky as to not cross paths with him. For years, it was easy. Jordan was in the military, doing God knows what, God knows where. Admittedly, in the beginning, when she would go somewhere they had been together and feel a pang of panic. She’d wonder if he would pop up. As the years passed, the feeling faded. Loneliness came next. It visited her in the dead of night when she was weakest.
Jordan was her first true love, and though she would never admit this, she had never forgotten him. And, more to the point, never met anyone like him. She often attributed his manners and ways to the innocence of youth, still, she never felt the same with any other man. She had always felt safe. Now, after all the years, she really couldn’t remember why they broke up…something to do with his career. Going to – what was the name of that place? Minot? Nevertheless, she held on to the hatred she felt. The hurt. The pain. It was better than remembering the good times. That would only lead to missing him: followed by the loneliness. And it would start all over again.
Now, he was back - surrounded by a storm of mystery, confusion and chaos. She remembered thinking as she first saw him. ‘How does my hair look?’
Dammit, I’m such an idiot!
She hated herself. Especially considering all that happen since then. Gunfights. Unannounced visits. Why couldn’t she have met him again under normal circumstances? At a restaurant. The movies.
Oh, look. It’s Jordan. Hi. How’ve you been? You look good. Well, see you around.
But no. With Jordan, it’s all drama. The wild, wild west. And if it had been a normal meeting, then what? Would those old feelings rush to the surface? Would, Well, see you around been followed by, Here’s my number. Call me sometime. She really wanted to say it wouldn’t happen. She had a man. But, deep down in her heart of hearts, she didn’t know.
That’s why she needed Kevin, right now. To remind her of what they had. To be a couple – have lunch, go home and submit to all his desires. To make her forget about Jordan Noble.
But he was late. Robin checked her Movado Edge watch again. It was now forty minutes late. OK, that was enough. It was time to leave. Before Robin could get up, her waiter approached.
“Ms. Summers?”
“Yes.” Robin smiled back.
“Your party, a Mr. Small, just called.” The young waiter was trying to sound professional. It was a French restaurant in northern Royal Oak. A part of town always fancying itself as cosmopolitan and chic but they were only one or two generations from working class stiffs. “He mentioned that he was investigating your recovery. He said you’d know what that meant.”
Robin nodded. That made sense. Kevin Small was no doubt working on something, or with someone to recover from the Fashion Gala disaster. She only wished he had told her earlier so that she could be involved. Why didn’t he just call her? She looked at her phone – no bars.
Shit. She smiled graciously at her waiter, thanked him and announced that she was ready to order. As she ate, she could not help but wonder what Kevin was up to. She was glad he was doing something, but she didn’t like being left out. She could call…but no. She would find out soon enough.
After lunch, she returned to her car in a structure across the street from the restaurant. She took an elevator to her level. The floor was shaded from the afternoon sun. The August air blowing in was cool and gave Robin a chill. She felt goose bumps travel down her arms. She probably shouldn’t have left her sweater in the car, but she wanted to look cute for Kevin in her short sleeve pink top. She quickened her stride to get to the car. The deck was empty and her heels clicked. She heard something else, an echo. She stopped and for a split second too long she heard echoes. She looked around and saw nothing. She was alone yet she heard something. She blew it off. She was being silly. Nothing was here. Nothing to get excited about. She continued - her car now in sight. The sound again, coming from where? Was it footsteps? How could that be - no one was in sight. She panicked and went into a run. Was she being silly? Who cares? It was time to get out of this place with its cold air and strange noises. She reached the car. Nervous, she fumbled for the right key.
Come on, come on!
She dropped her keys and swore. Her heartbeat sped to a ridiculous pace. She knelt down - the keys had not fallen under the car. She picked them up. This time she had the ignition key pinched between her fingers. She stood and was seconds away from getting in the car and safety. She focused on pressing the car fob with frightening intensity. Something grasped her by the waist and mouth, pinning her arms and silencing her at the same time. She tried to scream, but the hand over her mouth turned it into a muffled whisper. She struggled for freedom, but something was making her lightheaded. Something on her mouth. A smell making her sleepy. She felt as though she was floating in darkness outside her body. She had time for one thought, a thought coming unwillingly to mind.
Jordan…
Then all was silent, dark and cool.
~
Jackie admitted E-Man into the hospital after she had recovered from her ordeal. It turned out Jackie’s injuries were not bad and she simply fainted from shock. For a guy named ‘Slash’, one would think he’d be better with a knife. He completely missed Jackie’s veins or arteries.
E-Man on the other hand was a different story. He had to have stitches and required an overnight stay. But he would have none of that. He allowed Jackie to patch him up but then he would be on his way.
“That mutha fucker stabbed me, Noble,” E-Man said, “You know I’m getting his ass!”
It took both Jordan and Jackie to convince E-Man to rest in a hospital bed.
“Alright,” E-Man said, “Maybe a couple of hours. But then, it’s on.”
“Fine, E,” Jordan said, “Whatever you say.” E-Man was wheeled off from Emergency to a semi-private room.
Jordan turned to Jackie to ask about E-Man’s condition. His eyes clouded over with pain at the sight of the huge bandage at her neck. But, no pity – no self-doubt. Just an overwhelming need to kick the ass of Slash, Cody and anyone around them.
He liked it.
His strange sixth sense took a hold of him and he whirled his head. At the emergency room’s entrance, Stiles stood. Like the ghost CIA punks thought they were, he disappeared.
“You OK?” Jackie asked. “You look a million miles away.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jordan returned to her eyes. “But I gotta go.”
She sighed. “Just be careful.” Jordan was about to cut wise, when he got a look at her eyes. Something was there – something besides ‘friendly’ concern.