Marah Chase and the Fountain of Youth

by Jay Stringer

  Too clever…

  Nash rocked back on his heels, stopping himself from following. He turned his head, listening behind him. Metallic clicking. The whirring of a bike chain. Someone was biking away. He spun around and saw a low shape moving fast, whipping out from the graves onto the path and racing in the direction of the gate.

  Chase was the distraction.

  He ran back to the Toyota and slid into the seat, starting the engine before he closed the door. He reversed out from where he’d parked and brought the car around, then accelerated hard after the cycling figure. His high beams caught her. Crouched low over the bike, hips rocking from side to side as her legs pumped the pedals. Nash pushed down on the accelerator. Eades grew larger as he closed in fast, and then the car tapped the back wheel of the bike with a jolt. The metal frame tipped upward. Eades was airborne, hanging there for a second before crashing down onto the Toyota’s hood. Nash braked, and Eades was catapulted off the car, skidding to the edge of the headlights’ glow.

  Nash got out of the car and ran over to her, crouching down. She was wheezing. Her arm was broken, and he didn’t think much for her ankle’s chances, either. He rolled her toward him, into his arms, and lifted, carrying her to the car.

  * * *

  Chase heard the impact. She thought that was sickening enough, but the sound of a body hitting the ground, following by the unmistakable sound of leather across asphalt, was worse.

  She’d sensed that Nash wasn’t chasing her and heard Eades’s bike at the same time he must have. She’d turned and started back, knowing her plan wasn’t working. Ahead, she could already see Nash in the Toyota, turning, the acceleration and… the impact.

  Had this all been for nothing?

  She kept moving despite the feeling of cold water spreading across her guts, the sense of hopelessness filling her every long stride.

  Nash bent over Eades’s fallen form, then picked her up. He was carrying her to the car. Why would he do that if she was dead? And why would he kill her anyway, when the job was presumably to get Eades back to Lauren Stanford alive? A moment of hope: Eades was hurt, but there was still a chance to save this situation. Chase kept running.

  Nash slipped back into the front seat and slammed the door just as Chase cleared the graves and ran out onto the path, closing the distance to the car. Chase was within touching distance of the back of the Toyota when it started to pull away.

  She jumped.

  Reached out.

  Grabbed hold.

  She gripped the roof rack with her right hand and was pulled forward by the car’s acceleration. Her wrist screamed, feeling like it was being torn from her forearm. Chase felt like she was being pulled backward and forward at the same time, as the car picked up speed and her own weight tried to shake her loose. She tightened her arm muscles to pull herself onto the back of the Toyota and gripped the other side of the rack with her left hand, placing her feet on the bumper to steady herself against the back of the vehicle.

  They drove out past the large black metal gates of the Necropolis—pure decoration, Chase thought, if they weren’t going to use them at night. Nash whipped the Toyota to the left onto Gallowgate, deliberately fishtailing and almost shaking Chase loose. Her feet slipped, hitting the road and adding to the drag trying to pull her off. The car gained speed as they approached an intersection up ahead and Chase could feel her grip loosening with each jolt. She needed to make a move. Either she got into the car, or she got off. But she wasn’t going to let Eades down. Her feet were getting warm, the friction burning through her shoes. She tried to plant her soles and kick upward into a jump, but the jolt almost threw her from the vehicle.

  The car came to a sudden, skidding stop. Chase’s head smacked into the rear window and her right hand came loose. Nash accelerated again, running through a red light and forward onto a traffic circle, taking the car around in two repeated fast loops. Chase closed her eyes and held her breath.

  Don’t think.

  Just focus on your grip.

  Ignore—

  The car stopped again. This time Chase brought her right hand up to hit the window, bracing herself before her head could whiplash forward. The Toyota picked up speed, heading back onto Gallowgate.

  Her left wrist had moved past pain now and was heading fast into numb. If she couldn’t feel it, she wasn’t sure she could control it. Her grip was loosening.

  A second engine gunned behind her, a very muffled, controlled sound. She looked back to see the yellow Mini with Hass behind the wheel. He drove up close to the Toyota’s back bumper. Chase closed her eyes for a second, found the strength to pull her legs up, planted her feet against the back door, drew in a breath, counted to three, and let go of the roof rack, kicking off with both feet. She landed on the front of the Mini, the impact sending stabbing pains all along her side.

  Hass slowed down steadily, easing the vehicle to a stop to avoid throwing Chase off. She slid from the front to the road, landing on her feet, and ran around to the passenger door, pulling it open and yelling, “Go,” as she dropped into the seat.

  Hass grunted an acknowledgment and floored the pedal as Chase slammed the door. They raced after the Toyota, which now had a large lead. Both cars ran a red light at another intersection. They were getting closer to the city center now. Soon they’d be on the part of the Gallowgate that teemed with life when Celtic played at home, lined with bars that flew the Irish tricolor. If they continued on this route, Chase was sure she would have the advantage; she knew Glasgow better than Nash, and the city was riddled with side streets and one-way systems.

  She turned to look at Hass, noticing for the first time that his hands were covered in blood, as was his chest. She leaned across and pulled back his jacket, seeing a large red stain on the side of his T-shirt.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “A little.”

  “What happened?”

  “Stabbed. The guy back at the house.”

  “He’s the one who killed Bobby.”

  “Yeah. I let Conte watch him die.”

  Chase took that in, then nodded. Even in the middle of this situation, that felt like they’d at least achieved something. A small resolution.

  “He sent me the location of the Ark,” Hass said, keeping his eyes on the road. “I know where it is.”

  “And you came back for me?”

  He looked at her briefly, then returned to the task at hand. “Of course.”

  Hass pulled the wheel hard to the left, and Chase focused back on the road to see that the Toyota had turned off the Gallowgate into a small sleepy housing development. The Toyota reached the bottom of the road and mounted the curb, pushing on to another road on the other side. Hass followed. The Mini bounced and rocked, and it felt like they could rip off the wheels at any second.

  At the bottom of the road, still in the small housing development, both cars mounted the curb again and drove along a narrow footpath that let them out on London Road. The Toyota turned left, heading back east again. Hass turned to follow. Chase smacked against the door. One of these days, she’d remember to wear a seat belt in a high-speed pursuit.

  There was a new sound—from the sky. The droning whir of a helicopter. Chase opened the passenger-side window and looked up. A chopper passed overhead, heading toward Glasgow Green, the large public park that sat on the edge of the city, beside the river Clyde. Up ahead the Toyota turned left at an intersection, having the benefit of a green light this time. Now the chopper and the Toyota were heading in the same direction.

  It’s a rendezvous.

  Lauren Stanford was pulling out all the stops to make this a smooth getaway. And Chase knew if Nash got Eades into the helicopter, it was game over. Chase had no way of matching their resources, no way of tracking where they went. If Nash got there, he won.

  Hass was still a quarter mile short of the intersection, and the Toyota was out of sight now. Off to the right, on the other side of the pedestrian walkway, Chase could see a small r
oad that led straight down to Glasgow Green.

  “Turn,” she shouted.

  Hass didn’t need telling twice. They bumped up over the curb again, this time accompanied by a violent scraping sound.

  “I hope your friend doesn’t need this car back,” Hass said.

  * * *

  Nash thought he’d lost them. The Mini wasn’t on his tail as he raced down the Green, the road that ran alongside the park for a stretch. In the back seat, Ashley Eades groaned as the car bounced over a pothole. She’d been conscious the whole time, but not moving much. Nash wondered if the crash had taken more out of her than he thought.

  “I meant what I said,” Nash said, not meaning what he said. “Tell me what we need, I’ll head straight to the hospital.”

  “Both know that’s a lie.”

  Nash shrugged. He’d tried the same line a couple of times now. He could admit when the game was up. “Yeah.”

  He pushed the car over another curb and drove headlong into the park, sending grass and mud flying. The car rocked, jolting over lumps and divots. He saw the Mini now in the side mirror, moving at him from an angle. They’d found a different route into the park. But his car was faster and more powerful—he could keep the distance between them for as long as he had clear space to run.

  Ahead, Nash saw the tall obelisk erected in honor of Admiral Horatio Nelson. Lauren’s chopper had come down next to the needle, its landing struts already settling into the turf. In the distance, he could finally hear sirens. Man, the cops in this town were slow to respond. He remembered what Lauren had told him about having friends high up in the British establishment. People who moved in the shadows and had abetted the London attack. They had big plans for their next move but weren’t ready yet. And their influence over cops didn’t extend to Scotland. Things were different up here, and they needed to evade capture.

  Still, they were pulling off a helicopter exfil in the middle of Glasgow. His skills were matched to her resources. Why not have some fun with it? He pulled the hand brake, sending the car into a wide arcing spin ten feet in front of the chopper, mud, water, and grass flying all around him.

  Oh yeah.

  * * *

  Chase was already out and running before Hass had pulled the Mini to a stop. She was exhausted. She didn’t have anything left, but she needed it. She pushed for it. Up ahead, Nash lifted Eades’s still form into the back of the chopper. He climbed in after her and pulled the door closed.

  No.

  No.

  You gotta move.

  You gotta move.

  Chase passed the Toyota. She was nearing the edge of the blade’s range as the chopper started to lift off. Chase closed the ground between them and jumped. She grabbed hold of the landing skid. The helicopter rose slowly, gradually. Chase held on, staring up at the door. Nash grinned down at her. Her arms burned with pain. Her left wrist was still numb from the Toyota. And now she could feel it slipping. There was no way she could hold on. But she needed to.

  Nash blew her a kiss as she lost her grip, feeling nothing but air beneath her feet as she started to drop.

  How high up were they?

  THIRTY

  They were somewhere over France when Lauren groaned in pleasure. Her hips rocked as she gasped and let out a short squeal.

  She was astride Nash on the sofa. She could feel he was still hard. She might be done, but he wasn’t. His face, his eyes, asked her to keep going. She knew his mouth wasn’t going to. He’d never beg anyone for anything. Finally, someone who understood her. They matched each other. Nash had taken off his mask, and she had taken off hers. Well, mostly. There was still one thing she hadn’t told him. But that was between her and her parents, and they weren’t talking. August Nash was the perfect man. She knew exactly how to push his buttons and how to earn his loyalty.

  And right now, she knew who was in control and who wouldn’t admit it.

  She slipped him out and stood up, smiling. “Maybe later.”

  Lauren sipped from the champagne she’d left next to the laptop, looking down at the database. The full history of the search for the Fountain of Youth, now updated with one more piece of information.

  She’d had the jet refueled when Nash was away playing hero in the helicopter. She would have loved to have gone along for that part, to see the look on Chase’s face when she realized the game was over. Nash had explained that part in great detail.

  We just dropped her. Should’ve seen it, when she realized she couldn’t hang on.

  And then updating the database, popping the champagne, and deciding she needed sex, right then, right there.

  On the sofa, Nash coughed and pulled up his pants, pretending he wasn’t ready to explode. He came to stand next to her, lifting his own glass and knocking it back without looking at her, like she wasn’t totally naked right there.

  He nodded at the screen. “Kind of obvious, I guess.”

  “Do you have any contacts there?”

  He seemed to think it over. “Not anymore. Got a few across the border.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make some calls. Dosa has connections anywhere it wants.”

  The intercom buzzed. The pilot announced that they were approaching the Pyrenees, if she still wanted to do what they’d arranged.

  Hell yes.

  She slipped into her clothes, pulled on a large overcoat, and told Nash to give her a few minutes before following. She stepped through the door at the rear of the cabin, passing by the washroom and galley before coming to a metal hatch leading to the cargo bay. The door was sealed with a double lock. The chamber on the other side was pressurized but not as insulated as the main cabin, meaning it grew colder back there. She eased the door open and stepped through, ducking her head under the low frame.

  Four large metal pods were stacked along one wall, each one around six feet in length. Behind them were four plastic crates, full of equipment for the expedition. She’d planned ahead and packed small quad bikes with tank treads, preparing for any kind of terrain. But now, based on the result the database had kicked out, they would need to wait at a base camp while she had a new option shipped down.

  Next to all of this, sitting on the floor, wrists cuffed, was Ashley Eades. She stirred as Lauren stepped into the room. It looked like she was trying for a glare, but she was pumped full of painkillers to help with the injuries.

  “Is this seat taken?” Lauren smiled, crouching down next to Eades.

  “Screw you.”

  “You know, this reminds me of that flat you used to have your parties in. The one that looked like a warehouse inside, all those pallets and crates. You shared it with that boy you were so desperate to shack up with. What was his name, the French boy with the eyes and the hair?”

  “Marco.” Eades’s voice was muted. “Marco Moitre.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Yes. Marco-Double-M, like a superhero. I was just thinking about him, because we’re over France right now. Coming up on the Pyrenees. Is that where he came from?” She leaned in to whisper in Eades’s ear. “You know, he wasn’t that great in bed. And my parents liked him, which was the kiss of death, really.”

  Eades’s face twisted.

  Lauren continued. “It was always so funny, watching you try so hard to be one of us. Fit into our scene. Fool around with Greg. Oh, I knew. Of course I did. It was a game to him. You Brits and your class system.”

  Eades sighed, still showing attitude, even now. “What do you want?”

  “Did you ever even think of calling me?” Lauren waited until Eades made eye contact, seeing the question echoed back. “When my parents died? We were friends, I thought. I lost everything, and I was all on my own. You never called.”

  “You’re just done telling me we weren’t friends,” Eades said, and snorted. “You don’t have friends. Just people to control.”

  Lauren stood up and ran her hand across the smooth, cold metal of the nearest pod. She let her mother’s voice fill her head. None of these people are your frien
ds, Laurie. And they never will be.

  “This is all for them,” Lauren said. She turned back to face Eades and explained, “My parents. Finding the Fountain, it’s for them. And you got in the way of that.” There were actual tears in her eyes. Damn it. She swallowed back the emotion. “That was your mistake. And you’re wrong. I do have friends. How do you think I got into England without being seen? How do you think I’m flying over France? I look after my friends, they look after me. Marah Chase crossed them, I dealt with it. You crossed me, and…”

  Lauren’s words trailed off as the beeping of the keypad announced Nash’s arrival before the hatch opened. He stepped through to join them, holding two harnesses. “Pilot says now or never.”

  Eades looked at the straps and shook her head. She smiled, but it was for show. Lauren knew her old friend enough to see when she was fronting.

  “Torture time now? I’m not telling you anything.”

  Lauren knelt down again to whisper, “I know.” She stood and pulled a folded document from her coat pocket. The map. “But August already found this while you were passed out. And when I typed the name ‘Impossible Mountain’ into my database, it gave us a hit. Three, in fact. Two that tell us where the impossible mountain is and one that didn’t give us the real name of the mountain but did tell us about a ‘dark place’ on the mountain that the locals avoided. So… we know exactly where we’re going.”

  Nash slipped on one of the harnesses, fastening it around himself. There was a long bungee cord trailing off the back, and he clipped the other end to the cargo support rails next to the white pods. He stepped in behind Lauren and started fastening the second harness around her. She could feel his strong arms pressing against her.

  Eades watched, some kind of realization slowly spreading across her face. Whatever was happening, it was happening now. She shuffled back across the floor, struggling against the cuffs. Once her back hit something solid, the wall next to the door, she pushed herself up onto her feet.