Authors: Brad Taylor
“Uhh…yeah. I’m checking in.” He handed her his passport and turned to the right while she tapped on the computer. There, situated at chest height, was his vase. A large, expensive-looking vessel containing real, fresh flowers. The positioning was perfect. The men would leave their baggage on the ground, below the countertop, where the marble would protect it, while their upper bodies would be shredded.
Provided they checked in at all.
He glanced back out the door and was shocked again to see the two CIA men coming through the lobby, led by the escort out front, bypassing the security line.
Jesus Christ.
If they checked in now, he’d be in the blast radius.
They did so, marching right up to the counter.
The lady helping him asked something else, but he wasn’t listening. He saw one of the couriers pull out his passport and hastily said, “Where’s the bathroom? I have to go.”
“Sir? Sign here and you can use the restroom in your room.”
The clerk helping the CIA men took the first passport in her hand.
Dropping the subterfuge, Lucas snatched his key without signing and fled across the lobby to the far side. He reached the concierge desk, ignoring the stares and watching the receptionist desk.
The clerk opened the passport, and nothing happened for a split second. Then, a violent explosion erupted from the vase. The embedded ball bearings came searing out in a radial arc, decapitating both CIA men and the escort with them. The bodies toppled over, one on top of the other.
The receptionist helping the CIA men had fallen behind the counter.
Lucas had no idea of her status. The one who had helped him was shredded from the pottery shards of the back-blast and was shrieking. The orange-covered briefcase was in pristine condition, still standing next to the fallen men. Lucas ran to the site of the blast, as if to aid the downed men. When he crossed back through the lobby, he saw the unknown from the plane, fighting his way through security. And staring right at Lucas.
Lucas had planned on simply taking the case to his room, using the confusion of the blast to cloak his activities. He’d been in many such situations and knew that the initial response was always fractured, and nobody would question him walking away with the bag. They’d all be either catatonic because of the attack or rendering first aid to the fallen. Now, though, there was one man who was neither and was slicing his way through the crowds like wind through a dandelion.
Need to get out of here. Into the city. Then back to the airport.
Lucas snatched the handle of the dip-pouch container and took off running, away from the elevators and toward the stairs at the back of the hotel.
W
e were at the roundabout
a block from the hotel, within striking distance of ending this whole thing, when Decoy called.
“Explosive device just went off inside the lobby. I’m working my way through the usual hysteria and some tight-ass security. I’ll give you a call when I get inside.”
Dammit. That son of a bitch.
“How bad? How many dead?”
“I can’t see shit. I’m still outside the security barrier, and the place has definitely turned into—”
I heard nothing but shouting through the line. “Decoy, you still there?”
“I got Lucas. I can see him! I can see him through the door…get the fuck out of my way…he’s got the case, and he’s moving to the back of the hotel…”
I heard muffled cursing and the shuffling of bodies, then what sounded like someone slapping leather. Decoy came back on, a little out of breath. “He’s going out the back. I can’t get to him. Too much bullshit panic going on. There’s a bunch of Barney Fife security guys, and I can’t be sure someone doesn’t have a gun. I can keep pushing, but I might get myself killed.”
“We’ll track him. Take your time and get inside. Give me an assessment of the damage. I need to know who he killed. What he’s done to the peace summit.”
I looked at the map. The Four Seasons was right up against the ocean. If Lucas headed out the back, he was pinned in. He could go
either north or south, running parallel to the coast, but unless he started swimming, that was it. North led to the diplomatic area, which meant security. South led to the Sheraton resort, and beyond that, the Corniche promenade.
He’s going south.
I called Brett behind us. “Stop where you are and dismount. Lucas is probably on the grounds of the Sheraton by now. We’re at the Trade Center Roundabout. Jennifer’s going to let Knuckles and me off here. You take the south end of the resort. Get into the park. We’ll box him in.”
“What do you want me to do if I find him?”
“Just get eyes on and call. We’ll get to you for the takedown, but if he starts heading into the city before we can close, he’s your target. Keep him on the coast. If he gets across the Corniche road, we’ll never find him again.”
Lucas sprinted down the circular steps to the restaurant below, then plowed through the throng that had gathered, all staring at one another as if their neighbor could explain the explosion, the women holding their hands to their mouths. He reached the back door and burst out of it like a horse at the Preakness. He ran flat out for about a minute, then slowed when he realized he was not being chased.
He thought about his options. First and foremost, he needed to get into the city. He’d seen the Caucasian at the front door, but not the black man. There was at least one unaccounted for on the loose. Which meant there were probably more.
He racked his brain, trying to remember who else had been in first class with him. It was unlikely the men had forces already on the ground, so whoever was after him would have either been on the same plane or flying in behind them. It had only been about thirty minutes since he left the airport, so that left the plane he was on—at least for now.
Removing the couriers and taking into account the two men he knew were after him, he could come up with four other men.
Say just one at the front door right now, that leaves five on the loose.
Five. And
he could recognize only one. But they would have to cover both avenues of escape, so he was facing three at most.
Which way?
North was the quickest route back into the city. If he went fast, he could probably beat whatever box they were setting up. But it was also the diplomatic quarter. He had no idea who the men chasing him were and didn’t know if they had contacts with other government agencies. He didn’t want to risk the proximity of the various embassies within the quarter, all stuffed with security. South was longer, but he could get inside the Sheraton resort and really move out.
He ripped the tangerine fabric off the briefcase, stuffed it in a trash can, and began jogging along the water toward the huge pyramid of the Sheraton Hotel. He entered the gardens surrounding the pool and hugged the shoreline, acting as if he were a guest.
He saw nothing out of the ordinary. No men speaking into their sleeves, moving rapidly, or other telltale signs. He reached the far side of the garden and was faced with a manmade lagoon. It had a single footpath extending out into the bay before rejoining the shore farther south at the base of the Sheraton park. It was a barren kill zone. If he got on it, they could block both ends and he’d be done.
His other option was to enter the hotel proper, something he didn’t want to do. He had no idea if the Four Seasons and the Sheraton maintained communication with each other and didn’t want to enter another security zone.
No choice.
Before opening the door, he put his hand to the window to cut the glare, peeking inside. The hallway was packed with people streaming out of a ballroom. He caught a commotion deep in the interior. He placed his other hand next to his head and saw Pike Logan barreling toward him, knocking people out of the way like a thousand pounds of bull ripping loose in a rodeo.
He snapped his head back.
Jesus Christ. What the fuck is he doing here?
Without thought, he leapt onto the walkway for the artificial lagoon and started sprinting like his life depended on it. And he now knew it did.
I
ran through the lobby of the Sheraton
, looking for the quickest route to the back door. Some sort of convention had just taken a break, and a steady stream of people was flowing out from the main ballrooms, clogging up the hallway. Knuckles took a right and shouted, “This way.”
I saw the pool area ahead and fought to keep up, pushing people out of the way. “Head to the gardens by the pool. We’ll sweep toward Brett in the south.”
We exited, and I took a quick glance around, seeing an expansive landscaped area with multiple paths meandering through it.
Jesus. He could hide anywhere in here.
Knuckles took the first path he saw and started moving at a light jog, peering into the bushes. I stopped at a map on a bulletin board. The quickest way around the hotel and into the city was the south, but that had a chokepoint of a lagoon. He’d have to go across a causeway with no cover, something Lucas wouldn’t do unless he was driven to it.
No, he’s in here.
I looked at the map again and saw that the lagoon path ran right into a parking lot next to the tennis courts at the north end of the park. From there, it was a straight shot to the Corniche road. It was too big a risk.
“Knuckles, I’m headed to the lagoon for a quick look. Brett, what’s your status?”
“I’m in the park to the south of the lagoon, moving north.”
“Close in quickly. He hasn’t had that much time, and if he’s across the lagoon, we’re about to lose him.”
I broke out of the landscaping on the south side of the hotel, seeing the expanse of the artificial lagoon. I traced the pathway around it, focusing on every human I saw. Most were couples. None were running. I saw a threesome of two men and a woman at the apex of the path, right before it began to curve back to shore. One of the men was carrying a brushed aluminum briefcase.
Lucas had stopped running as soon as he realized it was drawing attention from everyone else on the path. It would be a beacon attracting Pike when he got outside. He sidled up to a couple slowly walking down the promenade. When they stopped, he stopped. Eventually, the man glared at him, pulling his wife and walking at a faster pace. Lucas began walking again, a little farther back, but still close enough to irritate the man. Lucas glanced back and saw Pike at the edge of the lagoon.
Keep cool. He’s not running. He hasn’t seen you.
He turned his head around and walked right into the man, who’d stopped walking and now stood with legs spread, hands on his hips.
The man said something in French and poked Lucas in the shoulder. Lucas said, “Hey, look, I don’t want any trouble. Sorry. Please move out of the way.”
Speaking with a heavy accent, the man said, “Why don’t you just stay here? Wait five minutes before you start following us again?”
Lucas looked back and saw Pike had now stepped onto the walkway, coming toward him and talking into a cell phone.
Shit. I’m going to get boxed.
Without a word, he punched the man hard in the stomach. When he bent over in pain, Lucas whipped the briefcase into his face, dropping him like a stone. The woman screamed, and Lucas hooked her legs, getting her off balance, then shoved her hard in the shoulder, throwing her into the lagoon.
Her splash caused several people to orient on the scuffle. Two came running toward him from the direction of the hotel. Right behind them was Pike. Now sprinting and no longer talking on the phone.
Lucas took off as well, scanning the far side of the lagoon for other men, knowing they were coming. He needed to beat them to shore or he was done.
He had fifty meters to go when he saw rapid movement deep in the park. It was the black man, coming on strong, but not yet seeing Lucas. He was running on the edge of the park, without orienting on the lagoon path.
Lucas redoubled his efforts, leapt off the path to the shore, and began sprinting to the tennis courts and the parking lot beyond. He saw salvation, a mere one hundred yards away.
A taxi. With its on-duty light illuminated.
“Brett, he’s on the lagoon path. Get your ass north!”
Before I even put the phone down, I saw Lucas punch the man he was with, then toss the woman into the lagoon.
What the hell?
At first, I’d thought Lucas had help and was glad to see the violence. I took off after him, rounding the apex and ignoring the pleas of the female treading water.
I saw him reach the shore and head to the road running parallel to the tennis courts. He was getting closer to making it into the city, but I was confident we’d catch him. Especially with Brett’s speed.
Lucas left the road, running across a primarily empty parking lot. I followed his line of march and saw his intent.
“Brett, he’s heading for a taxi. Get on him! Don’t let him reach it.”
I saw Brett round the corner to the tennis court road and knew he wasn’t going to catch Lucas in time. “Jennifer! What’s your location? Come south to the tennis courts, block in Lucas.”
I got no response and kept running, now on the tennis road myself.
I was thirty meters behind Brett and seventy behind Lucas. He ripped open the back door of the taxi and threw in the briefcase.
I saw the door close, and the cab began to roll. It circled around, getting onto the tennis court road. And freedom. I stopped running, disgusted. We’d need a miracle to catch him now. “Jennifer, what’s your status? He’s in a cab about to head north on the Corniche road. I need eyes on.”
I received no response. Instead, an SUV jumped the curb from the Corniche road. It raced across the grass, chewing up the perfectly coiffed landscaping, and exploded into the parking lot, reaching a speed of forty miles an hour.
It veered right at the cab, homing in like a laser-guided missile. The cab swerved left to avoid an impact, to no avail. The SUV collided head-on into the rear passenger door, both vehicles grinding to a stop.
Through the rising smoke, I saw Lucas crawl out the far side and drop to the ground. He rose unsteadily, grabbed the briefcase, and began jogging across the parking lot. The SUV door opened, and Jennifer sprang out, moving much faster. She leapt across the hood of the cab, closed the gap to Lucas, and threw herself into his body, hitting him in the backs of his thighs and bringing him to the ground.