Jerricho

by Dale Mayer

  As she thought about that, she sent Killian a message. Make sure Jerricho gets home.

  Killian sent back an answer immediately. I will.

  She smiled at that and could just imagine the two men talking about it. Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Jerricho, and she could almost hear the exasperation in his voice as he responded. Stop. Worrying.

  She laughed out loud and picked up the remote and turned on the TV. If nothing else she could possibly drown her worries in the news. It was depressing news, but, hey, it was something. As it was, she flicked through several channels, found a movie, and tried really hard to forget what the men were doing. When there was no contact after two hours, she got up and started to pace. Surely they had some answers now. Surely somebody would know something. She paced, paced, and then paced some more. Finally she couldn’t stand it, and, three hours after they’d left, she sent him a quick message. Are you done?

  The response came back. Yes.

  She sighed with relief. And you couldn’t have told me? she typed, snapping at him.

  Coming back soon. See you at the hotel in about fifteen.

  “Jesus,” she said. She curled up on the couch and just rocked from side to side, as she waited for them to show up. A text said, We’re here, and she heard a hand on the doorknob. She bounced to the door, a big smile on her face, as she flung it open. And she stopped because it wasn’t Jerricho or Killian. It was a stranger. Or maybe not a stranger. But she didn’t get a chance to say anything, as something was slammed over her mouth, and an arm wrapped around her neck, and that was the last thought she had before darkness took over.

  Jerricho walked up the stairs instead of the elevator; he was still too keyed up. As an operation went, it had been a complete failure. No, maybe not complete in the sense that they’d breached the warehouse. It was the right place, but the targets were missing. And Jerricho and Killian had spent extra time searching to make sure. And ever since they’ve been on the way home, worry nagged at Jerricho. By the time he opened the top stairwell, Killian stood there, waiting for him. “Problems?”

  “Nope, haven’t got there yet,” he said. “Ended up with a group on the elevator who stopped at every floor.”

  “Right. Don’t you hate that?” They walked toward the hotel room, still talking. He stopped, when he got to the door. “I suppose she’s still awake.”

  “Are you kidding? After she hassled me to make sure that you came back okay?”

  He grinned, unlocked the door with his key, and pushed it open. “Unless she finally fell asleep,” he whispered. He looked at the living room but found no sign of her. He walked through to the bathroom and then realized she must have gone to bed to sleep. At some point, everybody crashed. As he walked through the bedroom, he found the bed empty. He raced back to the front. “No sign of her,” he snapped in a terse voice.

  Killian looked at him in surprise and immediately did a complete search himself. “Where’d she go?”

  “I have no idea,” he said. “Did she go alone?” The two looked at each other in shock. Jerricho quickly pulled out his phone and sent a message. We need the cameras in the hallway on the fourth floor of the hotel. Brenna’s missing.

  Within seconds he was back at his laptop, the screen up, turned on, and a link in the Mavericks’ chat box. He quickly checked back in the last hour. “Shit,” he said, “look at that.” And, with Killian at his side, they watched as a man dressed all in black pulled a hood over his head just outside the door and knocked. Jerricho had already told her that he was on his way up, so she had expected him. She opened the door, a big smile on her face, and then the camera cut out. They waited and watched the feed, which resumed as a door was opened almost immediately. She was picked up and taken to the room across from them. Jerricho bolted to his feet and raced to the room opposite theirs. But it was already empty. As he came back, Killian stood in front of the laptop, watching the cameras.

  “Came back out after we came in,” he said. “She’s just minutes ahead of us.”

  “Which way did they go?”

  “Service elevator.”

  Jerricho bolted outward, racing for the stairs, taking them four and five at a time, landing upon landing. The service elevator would have gone straight down to the parking level. If not lower. At the parking level, he burst out of the doors to see a vehicle pulling away at top speed. He raced behind it, pulling out his handgun and firing. The vehicle stopped, hit the brakes, and reversed as fast as it had gone forward, aiming for him.

  He stood steady aim and took out the back tire, and, as it kept coming toward him, a little bit lopsided, he dashed off to the side and then fired at the driver. The vehicle careened off to the side, slamming into several others. He pulled open the driver’s door, checked to see that the driver was dead, and then checked in the back seat. Found nobody. He popped the trunk lever and raced around. “Jesus Christ,” he roared.

  Killian came up behind him. “Is she there?”

  He reached down and plucked her from the trunk and said, “She’s unconscious. I smell chloroform,” he said.

  “But why?” Killian asked. “That makes no sense.”

  Just then another shot was fired over their heads. Jerricho ducked to the ground with her in his arms, as Killian returned cover fire.

  “We didn’t get them all, that’s for sure,” Killian murmured.

  “I want to get her safely away from here.”

  “That would be lovely. Hide in between the vehicles, while I take down this guy.” But enough covering fire kept them from even lifting their heads for several minutes. And, by the time they stood, a vehicle at the far end already had ripped past and out of sight.

  “Shit,” Jerricho said, “we need the cameras again.” He handed off Brenna to Killian. Once again, Jerricho pulled out his phone and told Diesel just what had happened.

  Shocked, Diesel asked, “But what’s the point?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, “but we need to find out. That vehicle needs to be tracked, and it needs to be tracked now. And I need a set of wheels.” He looked around and, sure enough, spotted a Jeep Cherokee soft top. “Stay connected, Diesel. We’ll be on their ass in just a sec.”

  Jerricho raced over, checked, but no key. Still, he could hot-wire that sucker in a heartbeat. Before Killian was even done stashing Brenna in the back seat and getting her buckled in, they were already reversing out and tearing off onto the street.

  “Tell me if they went left or right out of the car park,” he said.

  “Left,” Killian said, “I saw that much. And they took another left up at the next corner.” He added, “You can just see it through the pillars.” He followed the directions Killian had given him, and Jerricho tore off in their direction. “Keep on tracking, Diesel. See if the guys can find them. The traffic cameras should pick them up.”

  “We’re working on it,” he said.

  “Work faster.”

  “Where’s Brenna now?” Diesel asked.

  “She’s in the back of the vehicle that I’m in,” he said. “I stole a Jeep.”

  “Of course you did,” he said. “Any idea whose it is?”

  “Killian will tell you in a second,” he said, “when he pulls out the paperwork.”

  At that, Killian rummaged through the glove box, found the requisite docs, read off the name, and said, “Give them my apologies.”

  “Yep,” Diesel said, “it’s minor in the scheme of things.”

  “It’s a nice Jeep though,” Killian said, as Jerricho tore around the corner. He looked at Jerricho and said, “Why this direction?”

  “I don’t have any reason except that he’s heading for the main freeway,” he said. “So, if I was him, I’d be trying to get out of town. I’d be heading for open air.”

  “Maybe, unless they have a bolt-hole in the city.”

  “I think, at this point, they need to get the hell out of the city,” he said, and he took another sharp left.

  “Tell him to
take a right at the next corner,” Diesel said. “And Jerricho’s correct. Our gunman’s heading for the freeway. This is a shortcut.” Quickly following the directions, they headed out into this crazy chase, following blindly, as they tried to track down the vehicle that had shot at them.

  “You realize that,” Diesel noted, “as long as you have her, she’s in danger.”

  “I got it,” Jerricho snapped. “But, as long as this guy’s free, and he had some intention to take her out of this, then she’ll never be safe.”

  “Right,” Diesel said, “carry on then. I’ll hang up now, but I’ll be here, if needed.”

  Killian, being his eyes and ears, left Jerricho to keep following the traffic signals, until he hit the open highway, at which time, he geared it up and tore down the road.

  “There is a speed limit,” Killian said mildly.

  “It’s more like a guideline,” Jerricho snapped.

  Killian burst out laughing. “Just don’t kill us in the process.”

  “Hell no,” he said, “it’s too sweet a ride for that. I’m not sure what he’s got under the engine here, but it’s nothing stock.”

  “It’s a Jeep, which means somebody cares about their baby.”

  “Yep, and right now it’s much appreciated.” Jerricho kicked it up into a higher gear and said, “I think I see them up ahead.”

  “Seriously?” He looked ahead.

  “Four cars to the right,” Jerricho said. “On the shoulder lane.”

  Just then the vehicle in question took a right turn.

  “Dammit,” he said, twisting to look behind him and cutting across two lanes of traffic.

  “Good thing nobody else wanted to make that corner.”

  “We’ll make it,” he snapped. And, sure enough, he tore the vehicle around the corner as he leaned into it. “It corners nicely.”

  “I thought these things were tippy?”

  “They are, if you don’t catch them just right,” Jerricho said. “But they’re extremely nimble when you need them to be,” he said. “Most civilians don’t know how to drive them.”

  “I’m glad you do,” Killian said. “I haven’t had too much experience with a civilian Jeep.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said. “You should take one of these babies out in the dunes.” He added, “They are something.”

  “If you say so.”

  Up ahead Jerricho slowed because of a red light, and the vehicle in question had slowed. He popped down the visor in front of him to block anybody trying to look at him. “Can you see him?” Jerricho asked Killian.

  “Yep. They don’t appear to be very interested. I’m running the plates now.”

  At that, Jerricho’s phone rang. “Answer that for me, will ya?”

  Killian pressed Talk.

  “Who is this?” Jerricho asked.

  An exasperated man answered. “This is MI6. Who the hell is this?”

  “Hey, Jonas. How are you doing?” Jerricho said.

  There was a moment of silence, and then Jonas exploded, “Jerricho, is that you?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “What the hell are you doing in my country and not telling me?” he growled.

  “We were just coming through,” he said. “And I would have made a stop to see you, but things turned ugly real fast.”

  “Remember that deal about you let us know when things go ugly before they go ugly?”

  “You want to tell the bad guys that?” he snapped. “Even right now I’m behind somebody. I need you to run plates.”

  “I’m not your busboy,” he said.

  “This one could very well be taking intel, American intelligence information, out of the country. And using your country to get through what he needs to get done.”

  “What’s the plate number?” Jonas asked.

  Killian ran it off. “That’s my buddy, Killian,” Jerricho said. “Be nice.”

  “I’m always nice,” Jonas said, “and I’ll be nice even as I throw your ass in jail.”

  “Not this month,” he said.

  “You can’t keep coming through my country and causing chaos.”

  “It’s not always me,” he protested.

  “It’s you enough,” he said.

  “You know I’ll just say, Deal with it, right?”

  “I’ll deal with it already.” Then his tone changed. “The vehicle’s stolen,” he said. “Where are you? I want a location, and I want it now.”

  “Whose vehicle was it?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said, “but it was taken from one of our government buildings.”

  Jerricho snorted at that. “So now the cyberthieves are even playing with you guys. That’s pretty apropos.”

  “I want the details, and I want them now,” Jonah said in a warning voice.

  “Killian can fill you in. I’m a little busy,” Jerricho said. And suddenly the vehicle in front of them realized that they’d been made, and the gunman took off, just as the light turned green, and ripped down the street, well past twice the speed limit.

  “When you hear the cops hollering about my speed,” Jerricho snapped, his voice rising, “remember that I’m only following this asshole.” And he ripped off past everybody else in the lane.

  Chapter 12

  Brenna woke up, her body bouncing from side to side. She cried out. Immediately a man appeared, peering over the front seat. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ve strapped you down. Just take a few minutes to wake up.”

  She gazed, bleary-eyed, at the out-of-focus face, but the voice was somewhat familiar. “Killian?” she questioned.

  “Yes,” he said, “it’s me. We came in just after you were kidnapped.”

  “It’s the only reason I opened the door,” she said, struggling to sit up, only to realize that they had buckled her in with both seat belts.

  “Stay where you are,” he warned. “You’re still groggy. They drugged you to get you out of the room.”

  She cast her mind back and nodded. “He put something over my mouth and basically threw me over his shoulder. It happened so fast,” she said. “I didn’t even have time to react.”

  “This is also what they do,” Killian said.

  “And you didn’t catch them?”

  “We did, but he had a partner in the garage, and that’s who we’re after now.”

  She lay here quiet, as the wind whistled around her. “At this speed?”

  “Yeah,” Killian said. “Jerricho is on the hunt. He’s pretty sure he has the vehicle in front of us, so he’s trying hard not to let them get away.”

  “But apparently they obviously know that he’s got them made,” she said, struggling to sit up. As soon as she managed to unbuckle the one seat belt, she pivoted around and sat back up again. She rebuckled herself in, the normal way, and looked outside. The wind caught her in the face, helping her to wake up almost instantly. “Where are we?”

  “Still in town,” Killian said, “but we’ve got MI6 involved now.”

  “Great,” she said, with a yawn. “I’m sure they’re thrilled.”

  “Not really,” he said cheerfully.

  At that, Jerricho asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “My stomach would be a whole lot calmer,” she said, “if I wasn’t being jostled from side to side.”

  “Too bad about that,” he said cheerfully, “but I’m not letting this guy go.” And just then the other guy made a move to speed up even more but caught a corner of a curb and spun out really bad. He hit several vehicles before flipping in the air and landing upside down. The silence was deafening.

  She cried out, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

  Jerricho quickly brought his vehicle to a stop off to the side. He looked at Killian and said, “Stay here.” He bolted outside, racing toward the driver. As he got there, a shot was fired. He ducked and dashed to the side, even as another shot was fired.

  She looked to Killian. “Shouldn’t he have backup?”

  Killian turned ar
ound, shook his head, and said, “Nope, he’s got this.” And Killian tapped his temple.

  She stared. “It doesn’t matter if he’s got brains or not,” she wailed. “He shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.”

  He burst out laughing. “I’ll just get in the way.”

  As she watched, Jerricho dragged the driver from the vehicle, the weapon he was carrying kicked off to the side, and, with one solid punch, Jerricho had knocked out the guy. “And what if the driver was seriously injured from that crash?” she asked quietly.

  “He’s a little more injured now.”

  Jerricho looked around at the sound of several vehicles racing toward him. Two men hopped out and held out their guns. He raised his hands. “I’m not armed,” he said, recognizing MI6 from head to toe. Another vehicle pulled up, and Jonas stepped out. He walked over, took one look, and said, “Did you have to kill him?”

  “He’s not dead,” he said, “but he’ll wish he is, if you leave him with me.”

  “He’s responsible for kidnapping your girlfriend, huh?”

  “Something like that,” he said in a hard growl. He looked down at the guy. “You might want to interrogate him. He’s connected with some intelligence theft.”

  “We will,” he said. “And I think, in your case, you need a safe house for the night.”

  “Brenna needs some more rest to get off the drugs,” he said, staring back at the Jeep. And there she was, sitting up, staring at him, her face pure white, gaunt, her eyes huge. “Yeah, she’s had a pretty rough time of it.”

  “Gimme your hotel room key,” Jonas said. “We’ll collect everything and bring it to you.” He added, “My guys’ll escort you to the safe house.”

  And, with that, Jerricho had to be content. He headed back to the Jeep and said, “We’re getting a safe house for the night.” A horn honked behind him, and it was the vehicle he was to follow. He pulled out, did a three-point turn, and followed them.