Nine Lives

by Gary Winston Brown

  Ahead, sunlight poured in through a dusty window above an exit door.

  Hernando opened it, found freedom and ran.

  CHAPTER 17

  THE CROWN VICTORIA SEDAN Elton Mannafort wanted could not be found at any of the car rental companies he approached, so he did the next best thing: he turned to the Internet. A private seller on a used car buy-and-sell website was selling the exact make and model he was looking for. Elton visited the seller’s country home, learned the old fellow had been an avid collector of used police vehicles for the past ten years, and carefully inspected each of the six vehicles he kept in his barn. Four of the sedans were being sold for parts, leaving two available for sale. Elton settled on a pristine eight-year-old dark gray model, complete with a door-mounted searchlight which the driver could operate from inside the vehicle. This unmarked squad car was extra special. Its emergency service lights and siren were still intact, hidden behind the front grill of the car.

  The old man started the Crown Vic, turned on the service lights and side-door searchlight, and blared the siren for a few seconds. “Everything works perfectly,” he told Elton. “She runs like a charm. Interior’s in beautiful shape too.” He exited the car and held the door open for Elton. “Hop in. Check it out for yourself.”

  Elton sat behind the wheel. The old man was right. The vehicle was in immaculate condition.

  “Federal law says private citizens can’t operate the lights and siren,” the man pointed out. “Actually, the car is not allowed to be sold with them, but I got lucky. I inherited it from the widow of a buddy who was an ex-cop. We’d been working together to restore it. One day I got a call from his wife telling me he’d passed away. Massive heart attack. Dropped dead on the spot, poor bastard. She figured he would have wanted me to have the car. Can’t say as I really want to sell it, though. I’ve got a lot of fond memories tied up in this old girl. Why do you want it?”

  “I’m a Hollywood acquisitions manager,” Elton lied. “I find props for the movie industry. My client is shooting a film. He needs a working Crown Victoria, just like this one.”

  “The movies, huh?” the old man said. “Just how big is your budget?”

  Elton smiled. “Your ad said you wanted seven grand for the car, so seven grand it is.”

  The man stroked his chin. “I don’t know,” he replied thoughtfully. “I might just keep her. You know, sentimental value and all.”

  “How sentimental would you feel if I raised the offer to eight thousand?” Elton said.

  The old man ran his hand across the roof of the car. “She’s still plucking at my heartstrings.”

  “Would ten grand end the relationship?” Elton asked. He removed an envelope from his pocket and flashed the bills. “Cash money.”

  The old man smiled, held out his hand. “I’m breaking up with her already,” he said.

  Elton handed him the money. “I thought you might.”

  The old man counted the cash. “Happy?” Elton asked.

  “Very.” The man offered his hand to seal the deal.

  “I’ll be taking it now,” Elton said.

  “You gonna have it towed?”

  Elton shook his head. “No, I’ll drive it now.”

  The old man looked puzzled. He glanced at Elton’s car parked in the driveway. “What about your car?” he asked.

  “I don’t need it anymore,” Elton replied. “Would you mind if I parked it in here?”

  “What are you talking about, mister?” the old man said. “I can’t let you park your car…”

  Elton stepped out of the car, removed his gun from his waistband and placed it against the old man’s forehead.

  “Oh, God!” the man cried. He offered Elton the cash-filled envelope. “Here, take it. And the car. Just don’t kill me.”

  “Too late,” Elton replied.

  “No!”

  “You’ve seen my face.”

  “Please…” the old man begged. He dropped to his knees.

  “Who else is in the house?”

  “No one,” the man replied.

  “You live alone?”

  The old man nodded.

  “Good,” Elton said. “Nothing personal.” He pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed off the walls of the barn. The old man fell to his side. Elton dragged the corpse to one of the parts cars, deposited the body into the trunk and closed the lid.

  The old man could have been lying, protecting his spouse or a child, perhaps. Elton strolled from the barn to the house, entered the property through the back door and searched every room. Clear. The man had been telling the truth.

  Elton parked the rental car into the spacious barn, drove out the Crown Victoria, then rolled shut the heavy barn door. He knew the rental company had equipped the vehicle with an anti-theft GPS tracking system. Eventually it would be located. No matter. The identification he had used to rent the vehicle had been fake. The mustache, goatee and glasses he had worn were sufficient a disguise to hide his face from the rental company’s security cameras. He had even completed the paperwork using his left hand, although he was right-handed; more theater for the benefit of the security cameras. By the time the vehicle was flagged as being well past its required return date and its last known position reported to the company, he would be long gone. His physical description would be useless to the authorities.

  “Now what?” he said aloud.

  He checked his watch. Three P.M.

  “The housekeeper will be picking up the children soon.”

  “Relax, there’s plenty of time.”

  “Don’t be so cocky.”

  “I’m not. I know her schedule, remember?”

  “So, is today the day?”

  “I don’t see any reason why not.”

  “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  “They’ll never see it coming.”

  “There you go again.”

  “What?”

  “Being cocky.”

  “It’s called confidence.”

  “You know you’ll have to take out the security detail.”

  “Do I sound like I’m worried about that?”

  “Perhaps you should be.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Prove it.”

  Elton slowly drove the used police car down the driveway and left the old man’s property. He turned onto the county road. “I intend to.”

  CHAPTER 18

  THE VOCAL COMMANDS ANNOUNCED by the GPS in Marcella Herrara’s car took Ben Egan straight to Le Carvery. He parked the Honda Accord across the street from the massive meat processing facility, held Hernando’s necklace in his hand, closed his eyes and concentrated.

  The man’s energy signal was crystal clear. He could feel his presence. He was close.

  Egan exited the vehicle and walked along the side of the road. At the rear of the plant, tractor trailers were parked in loading bays. He could hear forklifts as they drove their cargo into the holds of the trucks and dropped each heavy pallet into place. Deep inside the factory, cutting equipment whined, buzzed and chopped.

  Egan passed the loading bays, rounded the corner of the building and spotted Hernando’s car parked at the rear entrance. A metal sign on the wall read Employees Only.

  He climbed the metal stairs and placed his hand against the door. The reading from the residual energy was strong. Hernando had been here.

  Egan cracked opened the door. A folding metal chair stood on the floor to his left. To his right, a staircase led up to the second floor. The area was quiet, unoccupied. He walked past an employee punch card time clock mounted on the wall at the foot of the stairs and looked around the corner. He could see the main factory floor. Dozens of employees dressed entirely in white, from the disposable hairnets on their heads to the cotton slipcovers worn over their shoes, were at work at their stations. The factory floor was so clean it gleamed. This was as far as he dared to go. Beyond this point he would be at risk of being seen. One employee would surely stop him and ask what he
was doing walking about in a restricted area of the factory. That was a problem he did not need. His priority was to find Hernando.

  As Egan doubled back to the employee entrance a voice called out to him. He looked up. A man stood at the top of the second-floor staircase. He recognized him immediately as one of Diego Mendoza’s enforcers and one of the men he had warned away from the front gates of the orphanage.

  “You!” the man called out. As he descended the stairs, he unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt, spoke into the microphone. From a distance, along the metal catwalk, Egan heard running footfalls. The man had called for backup. Others were coming to his aid.

  Egan placed his hand on the steel railing, concentrated and tapped in to his superhuman abilities. The staircase suddenly began to rattle and shake. The man tried to grab hold of the railing, couldn’t, lost his balance and fell. He toppled down the stairs and landed hard at Egan’s feet. The impact with the floor knocked him unconscious.

  The man’s backup had finally reached the top of the staircase. The two enforcers looked down at Egan, saw their partner laid out on the ground and drew their weapons.

  Egan reassessed the situation. This was not the time or place for a showdown with Mendoza or his men. His first priority was finding Hernando and returning him safely to the orphanage. He would deal with the drug lord later.

  The employee entrance was immediately behind him. Egan turned, threw open the door, slammed it shut behind him and placed his palm on the handle. Under the rose-red glow of the mysterious force that was his special gift Egan caused the metal lock assembly to melt into the doorframe, sealing off the exit. From inside the factory he heard the men as they pushed and kicked at the door, trying impossibly to open it. Egan ran around the corner of the factory past the transport trailers and along the roadway. He didn’t stop until he reached Marcella’s car. Suddenly a voice called out his name. “Ben?”

  Egan wheeled around.

  Across the street, Hernando Diaz stepped out from behind the parked car where he had been hiding. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “What do you think?” Egan replied. “Looking for you.”

  “I told you before,” Hernando said defiantly, “this is not your fight.”

  “Maybe not,” Egan answered, “but it’s too late now. I’m invested in you and the kids. And like it or not, you’re going to need my help.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  Egan stared at his friend. “I don’t see any cuts or scratches, so I’m guessing the blood on your face and hands isn’t your own.”

  Hernando paused, then spoke. “No, it isn’t. I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “I know,” Egan replied.

  Hernando looked surprised. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Because men like you don’t go looking for trouble, Hernando. You would have needed a damn good reason to fight back.”

  “They tried to kill me.”

  “And?”

  Hernando removed the box cutter from his jeans and showed it to Egan. “I killed them instead.”

  Egan took the tool from Hernando and put it in his pocket. “We need to get out of here. Now.” He opened the car door. “Get in.”

  Egan started the car, put it into gear, pulled a U-turn, and sped down the road. He looked out the window as he drove past the front entrance to Le Carvery. He watched as the two enforcers burst through the front doors and ran out of the building. One man veered left, the other right. No doubt they were searching for him.

  Hernando saw the commotion. “What happened back there?” he asked.

  “I ran into a little trouble,” Egan replied.

  “Anybody get hurt?”

  “No,” Egan said. “But Mendoza will probably have to order a new back door. Probably a new staircase too.”

  “I’m not following you,” Hernando replied.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s all good.”

  Hernando dropped his head. “I killed two of Mendoza’s men today, Ben,” he said. “I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.” The tone of the admission weighed heavily in his voice. “How am I supposed to live with that?”

  Ben glanced at his friend. Hernando’s hands were shaking. “Everything’s going to be fine, Hernando,” he said. “Don’t believe for a minute that those men died a death any less violent than what they’d likely inflicted on others. You know what they say.”

  “What’s that?” Hernando asked.

  “Karma’s a bitch.”

  “It doesn’t change the reality of the situation,” Hernando said.

  “Like hell it doesn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re alive,” Egan said. “Which means Marcella and the children still have you. In my book that makes all the difference in the world. The world won’t miss a couple of dirtbags, but it would sure as hell miss you.”

  “Thank you, Ben,” Hernando replied.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Hernando stared out the car window. “They’ll come looking for us,” he said. “We’re all in danger now.”

  Egan nodded. “I know.”

  CHAPTER 19

  THE DARPA OPERATIVES loaded their weapons and gear into the back of the panel truck and climbed aboard.

  The vehicle rocked from side to side as it traveled along the broken back road. Hallier turned to Jordan. “You’ve taken us halfway around the world, Agent Quest,” he said. “Where’s Commander Egan?”

  Jordan removed the plastic needle sheath from her pocket, closed her eyes and focused on the super-soldier’s energy signature. The connection was strong but the location difficult to discern. “I can’t say for certain,” Jordan replied. “But he is here.”

  Hallier was upset. “Costa Rica is a damn big country,” he quipped. “You’ll have to do a hell of a lot better than that.”

  Jordan focused. “He’s on the move,” she replied. “Which is what’s making it difficult to track him to a specific area.”

  To Jordan, Chris said, “You’d mentioned Egan had a connection to a particular place. Do you remember what it was called?”

  Jordan nodded. “Casa de los Niños.”

  Chris took out his cellphone, searched the name. “Casa de los Niños is an orphanage in La Fortuna,” he said. “We’re about an hour away.”

  “Is that where he’s headed?” Hallier asked.

  “I’m getting a very strong connection between the commander and the orphanage,” Jordan replied. “We should check it out.”

  Hallier nodded. “Very well,” he said. He slid open the dividing window between the cab and the rear of the truck and spoke to the driver. “Take us to La Fortuna.”

  “Copy that, sir,” the soldier replied.

  Jordan turned to Hallier. “What happens when we find him, Colonel?”

  “That will be up to the commander,” Hallier replied. “He can come with us quietly or not.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Jordan asked.

  Hallier pointed to a canvas bag laying at his feet. “Then we’ll deal with him accordingly.”

  “What’s in the bag?” Chris asked.

  “Countermeasures,” Hallier replied.

  “How can you possibly stop him?” Chris pressed. “The man has the ability to teleport anywhere in the world, at will. How do you deal with someone like that?”

  “We wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t,” Hallier replied. “Make no mistake about it. My men are prepared to take whatever action is necessary to end this.”

  “Agent Quest and I both saw what the commander and Dr. Merrick did to the university in Long Beach,” Chris replied. “They decimated the place. Your men didn’t stand a chance. Neither did L.A.P.D. SWAT. What’s to say that won’t happen again?”

  “All you need to know is that we’re better equipped to deal with the commander now than we were then,” Hallier said.

  Suddenly the driver called out. “Colonel, we have a problem.”

&n
bsp; “What is it?” Hallier asked.

  “We’ve picked up a tail.”

  “How long have they been following us?” Hallier asked.

  “Since we left the drop zone. Probably saw your men parachute in.”

  “Military?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Police?”

  “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “Whoever they are, lose them.”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver replied.

  The commando seated beside Hallier spoke. “I’ve got this, sir.” He opened one of the weapons cases and pulled out a gray metal box. It contained a dozen spiked steel balls, each no bigger than a golf ball. “Get some distance between us and the car,” he told the driver, “then take the next turn hard and fast.”

  “Copy that,” the driver replied. “Brace yourselves.”

  The truck increased its speed, raced down the road. The driver spied a secondary route ahead. “Coming up in five… four… three… two… BRACE!”

  The commando threw open the rear cargo door and spilled the box of metal caltrops onto the road just as the team’s truck made a hard right. The tires of the pursuing vehicle blew out. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

  Strips of shredded rubber from the cars exploding tires launched into the air then fell to the ground. Smoke and sparks filled the air as it continued down the main road, its steel rims screeching loudly against the pavement.

  The driver reported to Hallier. “No secondary vehicles, sir. We’re clear.”

  “Good work,” the colonel said. “Get us back on the main road as soon as you can.”

  “Copy that.”

  CHAPTER 20

  ELTON MANNAFORT PARKED the Crown Victoria police sedan across the street from Benroyal Academy and observed Marissa DeSola as she waited to pick up the Quest children from school. In the student drop-off and pickup area, an operative from the shadow security detail stood vigilant outside the black SUV, keeping the woman’s car in sight, while his partner remained seated behind the wheel.