by David Yates
Braden had shaken his head. “Their whole purpose is to kill us. Instead of placing a tracking device, they could have just planted a bomb and blown us up. Or they could have come into the RV and killed us in a more hands-on way. But to get to the RV, then just plant a tracker and leave? It doesn't make sense."
Manny had nodded. “Yeah, I see your point. But they know where we are somehow, and a tracker is the logical explanation."
And so they had decided to stop somewhere with lots of people and conduct a thorough search of the RV. Now, stopped on the parking lot, Braden crawled underneath the RV with a flashlight and checked the undercarriage, while Archer searched the front, back and sides. Sam, armed with another flashlight, climbed the short ladder and searched the roof. Although they searched thoroughly, they came up empty. Back inside the RV, they sat and discussed their options.
Braden said, “Just because we didn't find anything doesn't mean there's nothing there. I'm not very familiar with what tracking devices look like. None of us are. And we're not equipped with any electronic devices that detect trackers, so the only way we could find it is with our eyes. I suggest we ditch the RV and find another form of transportation."
The others agreed with Braden's idea. Manny said, “But what are we going to do until we can get another vehicle?"
"We should abandon the RV right now,” Braden said. “Just walk away and leave it parked here."
They all nodded in agreement. Nobody moved, and Sam said, “Well, the longer we sit here, the closer they get."
That got them moving. Braden rose from the sofa. “Everyone pack one small bag with clothes and necessities. Manny, bring your laptop and whatever you need, but keep it to a minimum."
Everyone separated and packed quickly. Braden strapped on all his extra magazines and stuffed a couple of boxes of ammunition into the pockets of his duster. Manny took his laptop and a small black vinyl bag containing his most important equipment. Sam didn't have many clothes and was able to pack them all into one bag. Archer slung a backpack over his shoulders containing his clothes and personal items. He carried his medical bag in his hand.
When they were ready, Braden opened the door of the RV and peeked out. He saw nothing suspicious, and motioned for the others to follow. Together they walked away, leaving the RV parked under the street lamp.
They walked to a nearby fast-food restaurant and called a cab. When it arrived, they got in and were driven to a motel a few miles away. They got two adjoining rooms and settled in. They made plans to look for transportation the next morning.
In the wee hours before dawn, Braden awoke with a full bladder. He rose and went to the rest room. As he was returning to bed, he heard a light metallic clicking sound. It was very low, almost inaudible. He froze and listened intently. The sound was coming from the front door. He padded lightly to the door and looked through the peephole. He counted nine men outside their room. Silas wasn't among them. One was bent over the doorknob, apparently in the act of picking the lock.
Braden raced across the carpeted floor soundlessly and grabbed up two of his guns. He ran across the dark room to the bathroom door. He went to one knee and raised the guns just as the front door was quietly pushed open. The men silently began entering the room. Even in the darkened room, he could see that they were armed.
Braden held his fire for as long as he dared, wanting as many of them as possible in his sights before giving away his position. It was obvious to him that none of the men saw him; they headed straight for the bed.
There were six of them in the room when Braden opened fire. He cut through them as a scythe cuts through dry weeds. His bullets flew to their intended destinations despite the darkness, as they always did.
Sam was sitting bolt upright in bed, her hands over her ears. When all six men were down, Braden looked at Sam and hissed, “Get into the next room! Quick!"
Sam didn't hesitate. She jumped out of bed and ran into the adjoining room through the open door. Braden was right behind her. Manny and Archer had been awakened by the gunfire, as well. “Everyone on the floor!” Braden rasped at them as he ran for the front door to their room.
Braden looked out the peephole of the door. The three remaining men (apparently left outside as a backup team but now finding themselves the main assault force against a human killing machine) were crouched down outside the door to Braden's and Sam's room. They were obviously reluctant to enter, reasoning (and correctly so) that three men shouldn't enter a room where six of their compatriots had just died. They were still crouched there, undecided, when Braden stepped out of the door in his underwear, guns trained on them.
Following the brief battle that ensued, Braden would tell Manny, “Well, I have to give them credit for one thing, at least; they had cojones."
They had dressed quickly and left the motel, carrying their meager belongings. Archer pushed Manny along in his chair. They had managed to get less than two blocks from the motel when they heard the sirens. Two police cars roared past them. They turned and watched as the patrol cars cut sharply into the motel parking lot. Two more patrol cars were coming from the other direction. They swerved into the lot just behind the first two.
"We'd better make ourselves scarce quickly,” Manny said.
"All those in favor say aye,” Braden said as he turned and began walking again.
"Aye!” the other three said in unison.
They were fortunate to catch an early-morning city bus at the next corner. The bus was empty of passengers. They helped Manny get aboard, folding his chair and carrying it on. When they were seated and the bus was rolling, Sam said, “Well, they found us again. Where are we going?” She addressed the question to Braden.
"To the airport,” Braden replied. “We're taking the first flight out of here to wherever it's going. I don't know how they're still tracking us. It's obvious that the RV wasn't the problem."
"Then what is?” Archer asked.
Braden started to shake his head, and then stopped. His eyes lit up, and he looked at Sam.
Sam's face turned ashen. “No, it wasn't me. I promise!"
Braden smiled and shook his head. “No, that's not what I was thinking. At least, not exactly."
"What do you mean, ‘not exactly'?” she said archly.
"I think it may have been you,” he said. She opened her mouth to protest, but Braden stopped her with a raised hand. “I mean, you may have done it unintentionally and without your knowledge."
When he saw the puzzled look on her face, on all of their faces, he continued. Addressing Sam he said, “When they kidnapped you, did they give you any type of injection? Puncture your skin in any way?"
"No,” she replied, still puzzled.
Braden said, “Was there any time while you were in their custody that you were either asleep or unconscious?"
"Yes,” she replied. “When they took me and put me in their van, they put a cloth over my face. It had some type of chemical on it. It knocked me out. I woke up in that warehouse. I don't know how long I had been there."
The light bulb clicked on inside Manny's head. “You think they planted a tracer on her?"
Braden said, “Yes, I do.” To Sam he said, “Take off your shoes."
She took them off and handed them to Braden. He examined them closely for several minutes, and then handed them to Manny. “I don't see anything. The soles and the factory stitching seem to be intact. Check them again for me just to be sure."
While Manny rechecked the shoes, Braden said to Sam, “Give me your bag."
She handed him the bag without comment. He reached in and stirred through the clothes. He came out with a blouse and a pair of jeans. “These were the ones you were wearing when they took you, right?"
"Yes,” she said.
Braden began going over the clothes methodically, searching by sight and touch. He found nothing on the blouse to arouse his suspicions, and turned to the jeans. He started at the waist and worked his way down the legs. As he was running his ey
es and his thumb along the right cuff, his thumb ran over a tiny speed bump. He almost missed it. He went back and felt again. It was so tiny that he almost missed it the second time, too. He let his thumb rest on the spot, rubbing it.
He pulled out his knife and cut along the seam of the cuff. He opened the seam and turned the cuff upside down, cupping his hand under it. A small black nodule, about the size of a rivet head, dropped into his palm. He held it up triumphantly for the others to see.
"Oh,” said Sam in a tiny voice.
"Well I'll be damned,” Archer followed.
Braden cupped the little tracer in his hand. When the doors opened at the next bus stop, Braden threw it out the door. The doors closed and the bus snarled its way along its route.
When the bus reached the airport, they all got off and entered the terminal. They went to the Departures monitor and saw that there was a short flight leaving in forty minutes bound for Nashville. They got tickets for the flight and waited.
The plane departed on time and they were deplaning in Nashville an hour later. They immediately got tickets on the next available flight out, which happened to be going to Kansas City. They had just enough time to grab a bite to eat before boarding the plane.
The 727 taxied out to the runway and received clearance from the tower. The jet accelerated rapidly and was airborne. They circled to the northwest and gained altitude. Braden looked out of the window, watching Tennessee fade away below him.
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Chapter 10
They took a very nice hotel suite in downtown Kansas City. As soon as they were checked in, Braden and Archer went car shopping. They returned a couple of hours later with a 3-year-old Cadillac sedan with tinted windows.
Manny had set up his laptop on the desk in the suite, and was playing an online game when Braden and Archer returned. Braden pulled an armchair over to the desk and sat down. Before he could say much of anything, Manny spoke.
"I'd rather be looking for Anson or Silas right now, but I just don't have anything to look for. I need a starting point, but I don't have one."
Sam sat down on the arm of Braden's chair. Braden had his head down, thinking. Without looking up, he said, “Sam, did you work for Anson before he sent you on your assignment involving us?"
"Well,” Sam said, “I did a few things for him. Nothing major; he never let me in on anything big. I wouldn't know anything about where he is. I know he owns different properties and homes, but I don't even know where they are. He really kept me out of the loop."
"What kinds of things did you do for him?” Braden asked.
Sam shrugged her shoulders slightly and said, “Just small things. Mostly keeping his desk free of papers, filing, answering the phone; things like that."
Braden pressed on. “Did you ever talk to anyone on the phone or in person who you could identify, or do you know where any of his business associates worked?"
Sam shook her head. “No. I mean, people would call for him and I would answer the phone. They usually gave their names and just asked to speak to him. I don't remember any of the names, except for the other four men involved in the project concerning you. And they're all dead now."
Braden was thinking hard. He asked again, “What about people you met in person?"
"Well, of course he had business meetings from time to time, but whenever they arrived at his office I was dismissed immediately. I wasn't really paying enough attention to his visitors at the time to be able to identify them now."
Braden nodded slowly. “Did you have a bank account when you were living with him?"
"No, he said I didn't need one,” Sam said. “He said he gave me everything I needed. I bugged him about having my own account, but he refused. I finally let it go."
"How about companies or corporations he did business with?” Braden asked. “Do you remember any of the names?"
Sam replied, “I never knew any of the names. Like I said, he excluded me from all of his business dealings."
"You said you filed some of his papers. Do you remember anything from those papers that might help?"
Sam thought for a minute. Shaking her head, she said, “No, I don't think so. The papers I filed for him were just routine documents. If it was something of a more sensitive nature, he filed them himself."
Braden said, “How about the computer? Did you do any kind of data entry? Read his emails? Anything?"
"No. He never allowed me into his email box; he handled all of that himself. About the only thing I ever did on the computer for him was to send non-sensitive emails and pay his bills."
Braden's eyes lit up. “Bingo."
Sam gave him a bewildered look. “What?"
Braden asked, “How did you pay his bills?"
"Wire transfer, mostly."
"Do you remember the name of the bank?” Braden asked.
Comprehension dawned on her face. She said, “Security Bank and Trust in San Francisco."
"Did he have accounts at more than one bank?” Braden asked.
"I don't know,” Sam said.
Braden turned to Manny. “What was the name of the bank that you took Anson's money from?"
"It wasn't that one,” Manny replied.
Braden looked back at Sam. “Do you happen to remember the account number?"
Without hesitation, Sam said, “7019939."
"Manny?"
"Already on it,” Manny said, fingers typing rapidly.
It took Manny less than fifteen minutes to hack into Anson's Security Bank and Trust account. Still staring at the screen and clicking with his mouse, Manny said, “The account's been closed for several months. There's an address listed, but it's the same one you checked out in south Florida.” He clicked to another webpage. “It looks like the money in the account was transferred somewhere else. I'm following the transfer now to see if I can find where the money went."
Almost an hour later, Braden was watching television with Sam and Archer when Manny announced from the other room, “I found it!"
Braden jumped up from the sofa and ran to the adjoining room. “What have you got?"
Manny said, “The money was routed through a temporary offshore account in the Bahamas, and it's now in a bank in London. The account owner's name is listed as North Star Limited; Chief Executive Officer, A. Thomas Anson. Shows an address in Toronto."
Braden said, “Check debits on the account. See where the most recent ones originated."
Manny clicked and typed. When the correct webpage appeared, he read it and said, “There have been a large number of debits over the last couple of months, most of them from Toronto.” He turned to Braden. “The most recent debit was in Toronto, yesterday."
Braden looked at the screen and memorized the address. He turned and went to the bedroom he shared with Sam. He was already wearing his weapons, and he grabbed up the black duster that he had inherited from Joe Bemis. He donned it as he went back to the living area.
Manny tossed Braden his cell phone. Braden caught it in stride and pocketed it. “Don't forget to check in with me,” Manny admonished.
Braden nodded but said nothing. Adrenaline was already flowing through his veins. Sam approached him and brushed her lips briefly against his cheek. “Good luck,” she said.
Braden's eyes never lost contact with Sam's until they were gone.
Braden awoke to a dark and cloudy sky through which only a few stars were visible. A brisk, chilly wind blew his hair back from his forehead as he rose to his feet. When he had arrived in Toronto that afternoon, he had located Anson's address. It was a tall building of condominiums. Anson's condo was on the 11th floor; 1107. Braden had used up most of the juice he had left to travel to the roof of the building. He had concealed himself between two rows of large air-conditioning units and had slept.
Now he walked to the door giving access to the interior of the building. He turned the knob but the door was locked. He put his ear to the crack between the door and the jamb and listened
. He heard nothing, but of course that didn't mean much. It would have been hard to hear with the wind blowing as hard as it was.
Braden drew his knife and traveled to the other side of the door. He materialized on a small stairway landing. The light on the landing was either turned off or not working; Braden found himself standing in deep shadows.
He started down the stairs slowly. The lights on the lower landings appeared to be working fine, as their light helped him to navigate the stairs with little problem. He passed a door with a large “24” painted on it. This told him that he would have to descend 13 floors to reach the one occupied by Anson. He continued down the stairs quietly without incident, until he reached the landing halfway between the 14th and 15th floors. He saw two man-shaped shadows on the wall at the 14th-floor landing.
He pulled back quickly so that no one on the 14th-floor landing would be able to see him. He stood silently and listened. The two men were conversing in low tones and Braden couldn't make out most of what they were saying. He stood and listened long enough to hear one of the men mention Anson's name. At one point he also heard Sam's name. This confirmed in Braden's mind that Anson was indeed here.
The men seemed to be complaining about their boring duties, having to stand guard and watch for a single adversary who wouldn't ever show up here, anyway. Braden reasoned that they had been on duty there for weeks or months, and the lack of action had made them complacent. He smiled. Well, let's liven things up for them a little, he thought.
Braden tightened his grip on the knife and moved slowly to the top step. He crouched and tensed, ready to spring. One of the men below was pacing the floor. He appeared in Braden's vision, walked to the wall, and turned back the way he had come. Braden took the opportunity and jumped.
He aimed the point of his knife at the back of his adversary's neck as he flew through the air. The knife penetrated the man's neck, severing his spinal cord. He dropped to the floor immediately, Braden lying right next to him. Braden didn't give the other guy time to even realize what had happened. He spun on his hip and kicked the man's legs from under him. Anson's man fell backward, hitting his head on the stairs with an audible crack. He slid partway down the stairs toward the 13th floor and stopped, his head on a downward angle.
