She nodded. "Don't worry. I've put off yelling at you until Vickie is safe. What do you know?"
"I checked the security tapes, and it looks like the guys who took a shot at me came back." He pulled his laptop up and showed her the footage. "They might have come looking for me, but I can't be sure. Maybe they were actually there for Vickie from the beginning. She said people might come after her because of what she did. Which…is what exactly?"
"Which is not relevant. These aren't the ones who would target her," the agent said quickly. "I’m reasonably sure they were hired to deal with you, though, and decided to take some leverage when they couldn't find you."
"Right." He couldn’t fault her logic, and she knew the girl’s situation way better than he did, obviously. "Vickie left her phone behind. It wasn't locked when I picked it up and it opened to a link."
He showed that to her as well and she tilted her head and stared at the caption under the red blinking light.
"My guess is that I'm the moron in question." He shrugged and managed a half-hearted grin.
"Well, that sounds about right. Have they contacted you yet or—"
Her voice cut off when his phone rang. They both looked at it and he scowled at the unregistered number.
"Don't worry. I already told Desk to run traces on all the calls to or from your phone," Banks assured him. "Pick up."
Taylor did as he was told and pressed the button to put it on speakerphone.
"May I assume that I'm speaking to Taylor McFadden?" a man said over the line.
"Sure, go ahead. I have no idea who you are, though."
"You might have a clue since you put a bullet in me not that long ago. That was nice shooting, by the way. It seems like you've had the relevant training."
"You know us Americans and our shooting ranges," he agreed blandly, although anger coiled within him.
"Listen up," the man snapped. "I assuming you want to see your friends again, so you know the drill. I'll give you a list of demands and you'll comply without involving the cops or the feds. If you do, everyone goes home happy. Fortunately for you, the list will be short and sweet. It starts with you getting ready to meet us in person tomorrow morning."
"How am I supposed to get ready?"
"Stay near your phone for one, and in a car for two. You'll do a little driving. I'll send you the coordinates tomorrow morning at an unspecified time, and you'll have an hour to meet us. I've already texted you a proof of life picture, so all you need to do is stay on your toes and you'll hear from us soon."
He checked his phone and, sure enough, a picture with both Bobby and Vickie holding a newspaper from that morning waited in his inbox.
"This isn't your first kidnapping, is it?" he asked. Or maybe they watched too many action series. It almost seemed cliché enough to appeal to the two men, who hadn’t yet shown any indication that they might be remotely top-league.
"Wait by your phone, Mr. McFadden, and be ready to move alone when we give the instruction." The man hung up.
"Did you pick anything up?" Banks asked.
"Nothing that we didn't already know," he said. "At least we have it confirmed that they have Bobby and Vickie and they're being kept alive. It's a start, anyway. Another step would be if Desk was able to trace the call."
"Why?" she asked and gestured at the girl’s phone.
"Because if she managed to establish a location, we can confirm that the beacon on that phone is actually Vickie." His phone rang again from another unknown number.
This time, he already knew who it was, accepted the call, and set it on speaker. "Desk, you have me and Banks on the line."
"Hello again, Agent Banks," the woman said in a surprisingly calm voice. "How are you feeling?"
"I’m still a little frayed," Banks replied honestly. "Do you have anything for us?"
"I have a location, which I’ve sent to you right now."
"Can you coordinate it with a location that's already on Vickie's phone?" he asked. "I'll send you the link now."
There was a pause while she followed the link he texted to her. "Yep, it's the same place. And the link is actually to a track my 'insert name here' in Vickie's name. She must have some kind of a tracking device on her body or clothes, one her captors haven't found."
"Well, now we do have something." He took a slow, deep breath. "We know they'll keep them alive at least until tomorrow morning and that they don't know we have a way to track them."
"And that knowledge will definitely help us." The agent looked a little less stressed now that she had actual information to focus on. “Now to decide what to do next.”
"Well, among other things, this lets us know where they want to make an exchange, which means we can get there earlier than the hour they have planned. What makes the most sense might be to arrange a little trap of our own."
"Oh…I like that." Her smile was evil.
"Yes, I thought you might."
The morning in the desert was inevitably chilly. Some people tended to forget about that, and as the sun started to come up, Jon began to regret not having brought a warmer jacket as they waited outside the city for McFadden to drive out to meet them.
"Did you send the text?" he asked as Mike came around their SUV.
"Yep. He should be on his way right now." His partner looked at their hostages. "We might have wanted to give him less time, though. I'm freezing my nuts off out here."
"I know the feeling, but no, it had to be an hour. We calculated that carefully to give him enough time to reach us while making sure he doesn't have time to plan any nasty surprises along the way."
"What will you do when he gets here?" the all but bald girl asked and looked like she shivered as much as they did.
"Nothing too bad," Mike said. "None of this is personal. We’re merely trying to persuade your boss to pay what he owes. We're not the mob, after all."
His partner shrugged. "Well, the guy paying us is the mob and McFadden needs to know that. He’s kicking against the family here, and they don’t take shit from anyone. That’s why they hired outsiders like us who know the job, but that doesn't mean we need to let things devolve into brutality. That’s just savagery."
"Yeah, because kidnapping is the epitome of civilized," the man retorted and flexed his arms against the plastic bindings that held him secure.
"Hey, it was either this or torch the building with you guys in there," Jon snapped. "The boss wanted us to send a message and that is exactly what we will do, end of story. McFadden will walk out of here with only a couple of holes in his kneecaps or maybe a few broken fingers if he's nice and shows a new appreciation for the hard work extortionists do in his area. He will be a little wiser and yet still walk."
“Well, technically, with crutches and a fair amount of pain,” Mike clarified.
“He was the one who decided to be an ass and ignore the reality of the situation, so I guess he should have expected it.”
The large man with his hands secured behind his back merely rolled his eyes and leaned against the wheel of the SUV. Mike had wanted to leave them in the car where it was warm, but his partner didn't want to risk the possibility that they might somehow manage to free themselves and throw a wrench into the works. They didn't need that right now, so the two hostages were seated outside in the cold with their captors.
Not for long, though, if all went well.
"So, have we officially decided to shoot him in the knees?" Mike was curious.
"Only if he's troublesome," Jon replied. "There’s no need to waste bullets if we don't have to, right? If we give him something to remember us by, we're all good."
"I don't know," Vickie said. "Kidnapping us and messing with his business is bound to make Taylor incredibly pissed off."
"In that case, he’ll get a couple more bullets to the knees, a huge hospital bill, and a permanent limp." Mike gestured with the pistol in his hand. "All of this could have been avoided if he had come to work yesterday. We could have done the busine
ss there, extracted his promise to pay our boss his price, and that would have been that. But no, he needed to take a personal day and drag this whole job out."
"Not that I’m too bothered. We'll bill the client for all the extra trouble," his partner stated irritably.
The two hostages didn't have much to say beyond that, which gave the kidnappers nothing else to do while the minutes ticked by. The extended silence made the wait seem like forever.
Jon glanced continually at his watch, half-afraid that they might be running late. He didn't want to have to make a point—although he knew it was sometimes necessary to show that they were serious—but he would prefer to keep things clean and tidy. The kidnapping had been yet another spontaneous decision and while it wasn’t necessarily a bad one, it honestly wasn’t something either he or his partner had much experience with.
Still, it was something to consider for the future. If they wanted to make it in this industry, they would need to up their game to include a wider repertoire. Kidnapping wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, although he’d never personally been asked to do it. So yes, while this was something of an irritating and unexpected development, it had potential as a learning curve. If he looked at it in that light, he wasn't above putting a few bullets in the large man to let McFadden know they meant business.
Killing the girl would only piss him off more and would therefore be detrimental to their cause. There really was no need for bloodshed aside from what McFadden himself owed—which wasn't actually that much, given the degree of trouble he'd caused the local mafia.
"We have incoming," Mike said and gestured with his gun to a cloud of dust raised by what seemed to be someone driving across the desert toward them.
Jon checked his watch. "He's ten minutes early. The idiot must have run a few red lights to get here. He’s in something of a hurry, isn't he?"
"I'd be too if I was trying to save my friends," his partner said with a shrug. "Let's not overthink this. Keep it simple, get everything done, and we'll be home before dinner. Maybe we can do Benihana’s next month?”
He nodded, a little distracted by the four-by-four that stopped some twenty yards from where they were parked. McFadden didn't want to give them any cause to be anxious, which was good. He clearly worked with a level head and had no intention to make trouble.
The driver’s door opened and their quarry stepped out. He kept his hands raised and his movements smooth and deliberate.
"Who should I aim my gun at?" Mike asked in a whisper.
"At the girl, dumbass," Jon replied. "That way, there’s a better chance that he won’t want to cause any trouble."
His partner nodded and complied as McFadden walked slowly to where they stood, stopped about halfway between his car and theirs, and kept his hands raised. He had expected the cold from the looks of it and appeared to have dressed in layers with a biker jacket outermost
It was a nice jacket too. It would be a shame to get blood on it.
"It’s nice to see you're taking us seriously, Mr. McFadden." Jon spoke loudly enough but almost conversationally. "We do appreciate you coming alone. You have to understand that it's in everyone's best interest to finish this quickly and with minimal fuss. I do have to say that you probably won't make that biker gang meeting you're dressed for."
"You're a funny guy," McFadden replied, his voice laced with sarcasm. "How will we do this, then? You never did say what you wanted to meet me out here for or the reason why you kidnapped my friends and left the property wide open. That was rude and dangerous, especially in that neighborhood. How am I supposed to pay anyone if all my shit gets stolen?"
"Well, we were a little too busy to care about how you run your business," he answered. "Of course, if you really cared about that, you would have simply paid the bill for insurance like a regular person and everyone would have been happy."
"What can I say? I don't do well with extortionists. It's simply not in me."
"I was afraid you'd say that," Jon said. "Since it is me who will have to give you an attitude adjustment."
He really didn't want to do this—it was one thing running drive-bys, “liberating” a stranger’s possessions, or conducting various other operations that did not require too much close-up and personal beyond a little thuggery. But from the look McFadden gave him, a simple breaking of the fingers wouldn’t do it. Well, he’d wanted to expand his repertoire and there was no time like the present to plunge into the deep end.
With what he thought was admirable calm, he raised his pistol, aimed it at the man’s knees, and pulled the trigger twice.
He stared in shock when not only did the man not even move, it seemed as though the bullets had ricocheted into the ground beside him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He couldn't help flinching a little when the gun went off. It was loud and the emptiness of the desert made the crack seem only that much louder. He also felt the impact around his knee area, which confirmed that the man was a fairly decent shot.
Taylor already knew that, having squared off against him before. However, his intention was not to enter into a gunfight with the man. No, what he had in mind was much closer and one hell of a lot more intimate.
A moment of confusion crossed the kidnapper's face as he tried to make out what had happened. It was the kind of second he needed to take advantage of.
"Surprise, motherfucker!" he roared, not only for his benefit as he pushed toward the man who now inspected his gun as if he thought it might have misfired.
They had been able to track the kidnappers thanks to Vickie's tricks, which allowed them to prepare for the situation before they had even received the text. Banks had set up in the distance, having armed herself with a sniper rifle she was cleared and trained to use. It wasn't something she had brought up with him before, but it was the perfect solution.
Not that she needed to tell him everything. He wasn't her keeper, after all.
She would wait for her shot behind him, and he had yelled the chosen codeword for when shit would go down.
That moment was now, and while he disabled the guy who liked the sound of his own voice, she needed to make sure his partner didn't get too excited and take any shots.
Thankfully, the man swung his gun away from where it aimed at Bobby and Vickie, who were seated on the ground, their hands behind their backs, and pressed against the wheel of the kidnappers' vehicle. A couple of rounds pinged off Taylor’s chest and deflected away from his exposed head and into the sand behind him.
Not coming with a helmet had been a risk but was one he’d needed to take. There was no way they would let him approach wearing the helmet that came with Bobby's hybridized mech suit.
Taylor moved to close the distance between himself and his adversaries far more rapidly than they thought he could. The shock was apparent in their eyes when he reached the mouthy one before his target fully registered his approach. He darted his hand forward to grasp the hand that held the pistol, squeezed hard, and twisted the weapon free before he tossed it aside.
"Fuck!" the man shouted and stretched to reach down to his ankle, possibly for a knife or sidearm in a holster. All he found was a knee to the face, which drove him back a couple of steps as his attacker followed and held him firmly to keep him between him and his comrade’s line of fire.
"Any fucking time now!" Taylor shouted to Banks, who took her time in choosing her shots. He would have to move and risk taking a couple more rounds to center mass in an effort to tackle the uninjured man against his own SUV.
A small puff of dust lifted from the second man's clothes and he uttered a groan that sounded like he'd had the wind punched out of him. The kidnapper staggered a couple of steps before he jerked against SUV and fell with a grunt.
A quarter of a second later, the crack of the rifle was heard.
Taylor nodded in satisfaction and let the first man drop, clutching his nose and groaning in pain. With both kidnappers disabled, he picked up the weapon he'd tossed aside and sna
gged the revolver strapped around the man's ankle before he moved over to inspect the condition of the second man.
Another groan and the lack of any blood spray told him that Banks’ target wore body armor and was still alive. Fortunately, he wouldn’t get up for a dance session anytime soon.
"How did you know he wore body armor?" Taylor asked and kicked the gun the kidnapper had dropped out of reach.
"I didn't." The agent sounded annoyed. "I'll be right over, assuming you have the situation handled?"
"Yeah, I’ll make sure there aren't any more surprises waiting for us." He studied the two men, unsure of which one had it worse. Even with a smaller caliber bullet, a hit in the chest while wearing body armor still felt like getting hit by a car. He knew that much from personal experience.
The other man dealt with what looked like a broken nose and possibly a concussion too. Both deserved what they'd received, to his mind. Once he was sure they weren't packing more weapons, he moved over to where his friends waited.
"You took your damn time," Vickie said with a small smirk as Taylor pulled a knife out and cut the plastic around their wrists and ankles.
"Sorry. I couldn't decide what to wear," he replied honestly.
"Sure," Bobby grumbled, pushed up from the ground, and stretched before he rubbed the feeling back into where the bindings had dug into him. "How did you find us quickly enough to set up a sniper nest?"
"That's on this one here." Taylor helped Vickie stand. "We were able to track her thanks to her dropping her phone, which let us keep up with you guys on the road. It was delicate work but wouldn't have been possible without quick thinking, squirt."
"I only did my job, boss," she said.
"Where did you hide the tracking device anyway?" he asked. "I have to imagine they would search you for shit like that."
"You'd be right. But most people tend to ignore my piercings. My nose stud has a small transmitter implanted. Like I said, I have people who want me dead or gone and I don't want to make it too easy for them to accomplish that."
Silent Death (Cryptid Assassin Book 2) Page 21