Alcatraz

by Michael P. Spradlin

  “I’m ready right now,” I said, and I was. And I knew when Boone said he had “people following” he meant Uly and Felix and maybe some others we didn’t know about.

  “Q, you’ve really got to move on from the cargo pants. You could wear something a little more fashionable,” Angela said. At first I thought she was picking a fight, but she bit her lower lip to tip me off that she was playing to the microphones.

  “Oh, more fashionable? You mean like a ratty backpack?” I said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my backpack,” Angela said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my cargos,” I said.

  It was pretty amazing how good we were getting at fake bickering. I remembered earlier today how Angela had kicked the clown in the chest while I was running the three-card monte con. We were getting better and better at playing all these roles a spy sometimes has to play. Like Boone using his good ol’ boy drawl whenever he was around our parents. I was pretty sure I was going to screw it up at some point. All I could do was hope Boone caught Speed before it happened.

  Angela shut down her computer and stuffed it in her backpack.

  Boone’s phone rang.

  “We’ll be right out,” he said as he answered. “The limo is here. Let’s go.”

  We left the galley through the hatch. Once on the deck we climbed down the ladder to the dock. The limo was waiting for us in the parking lot. Knowing that Speed could do the same thing Boone could do, it felt like the car was a million miles away. But we couldn’t run or sprint or do anything that might tip off anyone who was watching. We had to act normal.

  Croc strolled along in front of us, and Boone walked behind us. With each step we took, another bead of perspiration ran down my forehead into my eyes. About halfway there it suddenly occurred to me that Mom and Roger were in the limo. Now I was really nervous. What if Speed showed up and did something to Mom just for spite?

  In the end, I realized there was nothing else we could do. If he showed up or blinked in or whatever, I just had to hope Boone or Croc could somehow take him out. It was a horrible choice, but right at the moment, it was the only one I had.

  We had to keep going. We had to find a way to stop Speed.

  Taken

  Boone paced backstage. The concert was just starting. Blaze and Roger already had the crowd whipped into a full-on frenzy. After the attack at the bank Boone called J.R. and had him send a team to take Buddy’s body to a secure facility. Buddy’s identity had not been released. If the news got out and Roger or Blaze heard it, it would be game over. Boone also hadn’t told Q and Angela yet, but he was reasonably certain Speed was still going to come after Q. He couldn’t say why, because he never saw Speed as much of a father. But he still felt in his gut it was going to happen.

  The Marin County Fairgrounds had an open-air arena, so there weren’t too many places that could be completely sealed off. Boone hoped to keep Q and Angela on the boat. But once Q figured out it was bugged, they couldn’t do that. It would be too difficult to keep up the façade and not let Speed know they were on to him.

  Besides, Blaze and Roger always insisted on having their kids with them at the concert. With their being shipped off to boarding school soon, they wanted to spend as much time with Q and Angela as possible. But in reality, there was no place that could be truly protected. If Boone didn’t catch Speed soon, they wouldn’t be safe anywhere.

  Croc stayed right at his side as he circulated backstage. When they were alone or out of the line of sight of the crew or backup musicians they would both test a blink. Boone had made another rash decision when he’d blinked away from Q and Angela earlier in the day. He’d let emotion cloud his judgment. Knowing what Speed had done to his team outside the bank had left him thirsting for revenge. He wasn’t fully recharged and he’d run his energy down again. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He disappeared and reappeared about fifteen feet away, glancing around to make sure no one had seen him. If Speed came for either Q or Angela, he was going to have to face him at less than full power.

  “Croc, old pal, what about you?” Boone said.

  Croc disappeared. A few minutes later he came trotting backstage. He had gone a fair bit farther, probably out to the parking lot. He always did. Something in his metabolism allowed him to regenerate faster.

  “Show-off,” Boone muttered. Croc huffed.

  Once they arrived at the concert, and Blaze and Roger went on stage, Boone had Marie and Art take Angela and Q to separate rooms backstage. Neither place was ideal from a security standpoint. The doors could be locked, but they had windows. They had done their best to seal them up. But Speed would likely find a way in if he was determined to snatch one of them.

  Boone was pretending to run the concert with his walkie-talkie. In actuality, he’d turned the show over to one of his top roadies to better focus on protecting Q and Angela. He walked stage left, then down a small corridor. Reaching the small supply room where he’d stashed Art and Q, he knocked on the door.

  “Art? It’s Boone,” he said. “Everything okay?”

  “We’re good. No sign of anything. Here’s a tip, though. Don’t ever play gin rummy with Q. He cheats,” Art said.

  “It’s not cheating! I don’t cheat. You have tells.” Boone could hear Q complain. “Boone, when do I get out of here? I’m going a little nuts.”

  “Soon, I hope, buddy. Hang tight.”

  Boone crossed backstage and entered an identical corridor stage right. There was a similar room down the hall where he had Marie guarding Angela. When they reached it, Croc went crazy, scratching at the threshold and barking.

  Boone rapped hard on the door.

  “Marie! Marie! It’s Boone, open up.”

  Croc was doing his best to dig his way through the door, snarling and growling. Boone tried the door, but it was still locked. He heard a groan come from inside and reared back and kicked the door open. Croc rushed in and went straight to Marie, who was lying on the floor, barely conscious.

  “Croc!” Boone said. The dog dashed back out through the door. He would check the parking lot and perimeter of the arena and fairgrounds. Boone gently lifted Marie by her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered open. “I need a medic backstage right, the main corridor. Now!” he shouted into the walkie-talkie.

  “Marie, what happened?” he asked.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” she whispered. “We were talking . . . then the window glass shattered. Someone threw a rock through it or . . . something.” She touched the back of her head with her hand. It came away sticky with blood.

  “What happened after that?” Boone asked.

  “I . . . I pushed Angela into the corner and got in front of her. I was reaching for my gun. Then the next thing I knew someone hit me. Hard. I landed on the floor. I heard Angela yell something. Then the door opened and closed. I think I blacked out.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “That’s the strange thing, Boone. I didn’t. I never saw anyone. I messed up, Boone, I lost Angela.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Shh, Marie. You didn’t mess up. I did. It’s my fault.”

  A couple of paramedics wheeling a stretcher rushed up, stopping in front of the room. They both hurried inside and knelt to examine Marie. Boone stood up to get out of their way.

  “Marie, they’re going to take care of you, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

  He backed out of the room and into the corridor. Croc came trotting up, panting and tired. Boone knew if he had spotted anything at all he would be barking and making a fuss, beckoning Boone to follow him. But he stood there with his head down, trying to catch his breath.

  “Right under my nose,” Boone muttered. “Dang it. Come on, pal, we’ve got to get to Q.”

  Boone and Croc raced across the backstage to the stage left corridor. In his mind, Boone started to see Speed’s plan unfolding. He should have known. He should have put Angela someplace more secure. Speed’s plan was suddenly clear to him. If he’d taken Q
there was a chance Q could be hurt or injured. Now he had Angela.

  “I’ll bet you a dollar he wants to trade Angela for the Grail,” Boone muttered to Croc.

  They reached the door. “Art, it’s Boone. Open up!” he shouted.

  Boone heard movement inside. The door opened a crack and he could just see Art’s face. Art was cautious, opening the door a little wider. Boone noticed his right hand was hidden behind his back, no doubt firmly gripping a pistol. He’d put Q directly behind him.

  “What’s up?” Art asked.

  “Listen. Angela has been snatched, and Marie is injured,” Boone said. Art’s eyes went wide, then his jaw clenched. He was instantly ready to crack someone in the head.

  “Who? Who did it?”

  “Art, I can’t tell you. There’s no time. I promise you I’ll personally take care of the person who hurt Marie. I give you my word. Paramedics are looking after Marie right now. Go,” he said.

  Art didn’t waste any time. He sprinted through the door and raced down the hallway to find his partner.

  Boone punched a number on his cell phone.

  “Uly, it’s Boone. Listen. Marie is down. Angela has been taken hostage. I need you and Felix to come to the back of the stage with the Range Rover. Then the two of you are going to stick to Roger and Blaze like bark on a tree. Copy? Get here as fast as you can.” He disconnected the call.

  “My dad took her, didn’t he?” Q asked.

  “Yes,” Boone answered.

  “Will Angela be okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know what he wants.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A trade.”

  “You lost me,” Q said. “What does he want to trade?”

  “He’s going to trade Angela for me and you,” Boone said. “Or at least me.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because he heard the whole story on the boat today. He’d already figured out I could blink. Now he’s sure I’m the one who can open the box and give him the Grail,” Boone said.

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. I sure wish I had X-Ray available right about now. But that was part of his plan too. He took out everyone so we’d be alone and blind. He probably had a car in the lot and stashed Angela and took off. He could be anywhere by now.”

  “What are we going to do, Boone?”

  “We’re going to find her.”

  MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 15

  7:15 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. PST

  The Trade

  Boone and I sprinted to the Range Rover and pulled out onto the highway, leaving the fairgrounds behind. I sat in the passenger seat while Croc stood on the console between us. We had a couple of hours until the concert ended. If we didn’t find Angela by then, we’d have a lot of explaining to do.

  We drove a few miles down the road in silence.

  “Why are we heading into the city?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Seems like the most logical direction. More places to hide,” Boone said.

  “Boone? You really don’t know what you’re doing here, do you? You’re waiting for him to contact you, right?” I said, trying and failing to keep the worry out of my voice. Angela had been my stepsister for about two weeks. And I wanted her safe.

  “That’s right. Remember something, Q. You figured out that the boat was bugged. I should have suspected as much. Speed has probably had it bugged for a long time. That’s on me. But now he knows that the only way he can get to the Grail is through me. And if he harms Angela, he’ll get nothing. We got enough info on the ghost cell from Buddy T.’s safe-deposit boxes to keep a dozen agencies busy for months. Membership rolls, finances, training facilities, deep-cover operatives—J.R. is busy taking it apart right now. If Speed doesn’t get the Grail, he’s back to square one as far as his terror network goes. But his problem has always been ego. He thinks he’s smarter and better than anyone. Right now he’s thinking the Grail will give him ultimate power. And it could. If he could get to it. He hasn’t focused on the fact that even if he does get the box open, he has no more organization, no more operatives. Whatever happens between Speed and me, he’s going to be alone even if he comes through this.”

  “But if he gets access to the Grail, couldn’t he use it to raise an army of terrorist blinkers? I mean that’s what you and Sir Hughes did, right? You both used its power to fight in the Crusades. It gave you a huge advantage. You said so yourself. Why couldn’t Speed do the same?”

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what he plans to do. He could even do it in secret. Over time, he could put his agents in powerful positions; it would be an infiltration unlike any seen in history. Remember he already got two people inside the White House and they didn’t have the power. Imagine what he could do with operatives in government, business, finance. He could bring everything down. The restoration of the Caliphate would be complete.”

  We were both quiet a moment while we considered it.

  “But remember, we know who he is now,” Boone said. “The blinking power is not limitless. Eventually, you have to rest and regenerate. Speed could still get caught. Locked up in a sealed place he could never get out of. I don’t think we need to worry about all this. Speed is smarter than I gave him credit for, but he will still find a way to screw it up.”

  “I guess,” I muttered. I wasn’t so convinced.

  “There’s one thing that’s bothering me, though,” I said after a moment.

  “What’s that?” Boone asked.

  “How did Speed figure it all out? I mean when he showed up during Bethany’s kidnapping, he was running an op.” I actually said op. I’d been hanging around spies far too long. “But on the coach, when you put the tracker in his boots, he knew right away. Then he followed us to San Antonio and it must have been him freaking out Malak in the safe house, in Chicago. How did he put it all together?”

  Boone shook his head.

  “I don’t know, other than, as I said, he’s smarter than we gave him credit for. And I’ve been around a long time. There have been rumors about me and the SOS team out there in intelligence circles for some time now. You can’t keep everything a secret. No matter how hard you try. Every side has spies. We all know things about each other. When he saw us there, and had heard the rumors about me being NOC for the CIA, he probably put two and two together. Maybe he didn’t know I was the Last Templar but he knew I was involved in bringing down the ghost cell somehow. After that, he probably kept tabs on us by blinking or having Buddy T. track our activities. I don’t know exactly.”

  I thought about it. It was hard to reconcile the Speed I knew with this new version. My Speed couldn’t tie his shoes on a good day. That’s probably why he wore cowboy boots all the time. He fooled everyone. Even my mom.

  Boone’s phone rang. It was synced with the Bluetooth system on the Range Rover, so he pushed the button on the steering wheel.

  “Boone.”

  “Hello, Boone. Or should I say ‘Templar’?”

  “Hello, Speed. So you’re Number One. Hard to believe.”

  “Ha. Good one. I’d expect something a little more pithy after almost a thousand years, Boone.”

  “Thank God your vocabulary has improved, Speed. At least you’re no longer ending every sentence with ‘man.’”

  Speed ignored the taunt.

  “You do realize I have the girl. Make me mad and she might have a very bad day.”

  “Nah. I don’t think so. You do anything to Angela, and you’ll never get what you want.”

  “Is that right?” I could hear the sneer in his voice over the phone.

  “Yep. In fact, I suspect you’re running on empty right about now. Angela is the only card you’ve got, so let me get the warning out of the way. If you—”

  “Enough! You’ve got ninety minutes. You come and bring Q.”

  “Where?”

  “Alcatraz Island on the back side, behind the prison. It’s deserted back the
re and the park is closed. There’s a small clearing above the dock. Don’t be late.” He disconnected.

  “This isn’t good,” Boone said. “I don’t have enough energy yet to blink to Alcatraz. How are we going to get there?”

  The car was silent as Boone and I tried to think of a way to reach Angela.

  “I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Do you still have the little gizmo X-Ray gave you? The one that jams surveillance cameras and microphones?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “We can take the sailboat. If you use the device to knock out all the cameras and microphones on the boat we can be sure he won’t know we’re coming. I mean, I know he’s expecting us, but maybe we can sneak up on him or something. At the very least, he won’t be able to listen to us.”

  “That’ll work,” Boone said. He gave the Range Rover the gas. Heading for the marina.

  The Rock

  Angela was sitting on a log in a clearing in the underbrush on Alcatraz Island. She had been here several times on school field trips. Spanish explorers had called it Alcatraces. It was originally a fort and lighthouse that helped ships navigate the San Francisco Bay. In the Civil War it had housed Confederate sympathizers and privateers. In 1933 it became a federal prison, and served in that capacity until it closed thirty years later, in 1963. It was a desolate, inhospitable place. And it had earned its nickname, “The Rock.”

  Her hands were flex-cuffed behind her. A few feet away, Speed Paulsen paced back and forth. The details of how he’d managed to capture her were still fuzzy to Angela. She remembered being in the room backstage at the fairgrounds. Marie was telling her a funny story about Boone. Then the window shattered. Marie had shoved her into a corner and stood in front of her, reaching for her gun.

  That was the last thing she remembered. Judging by the throbbing spot on the back of her head, she guessed Speed knocked her out somehow.