S.E.A.R.Ch

by Harrison Davies

  A shot shattered the nervous silence. The returning policeman screamed in agony as his body crumpled to the ground. He lay writhing in pain, clutching a bleeding leg.

  ‘No!’ cried the other officer as he dived out of the driving seat and scrambled to the rear of the car. ‘Officer down! Weapons fire! Widikham Station car park!’ he cried into his personal radio and fumbled for his keys to the boot while Schism fired several rounds at the vehicle.

  Tara and Karl sprung into action, grabbing the hostages and bundling them into the rear of the truck. Karl raced to the front of the vehicle and started it up. He quickly pulled it out of its parking space and stopped for Schism, who leapt in the back. Spinning the wheels, Karl headed for the exit, barely missing the downed officer. The truck took a sharp turn with a screech of wheels and careened into a parked car.

  The impact was severe enough to throw the car into a flip, reducing it to a crumpled wreck. In the rear of the truck Schism and Tara struggled to imprison the hostages in a cage, which had been purposely built on the left side.

  Scattered inside the truck were wooden boxes, some of which had broken open to reveal an arsenal of weapons. Tara opened a box near the cage, took out a rifle and dressed herself in body armor.

  Schism suddenly cried out. ‘That other cop’s on our tail!’

  ‘Karl, we’re being followed. Step on it!’ she yelled at the driver.

  ‘Hold tight, here goes,’ he shouted back, stepping on the gas.

  The engine began to race as the truck gained speed.

  ‘We’re not going to outrun them in this,’ Schism shouted over the noise of the truck.

  ‘Then we’ll have to stop them, won’t we?’ Tara snapped, cocking her weapon.

  ‘Wait! We can’t!’ Schism cried in a panic.

  ‘Are you going soft on me Schism?’ Tara asked with a cold expression on her face. ‘You’re the one who shot a cop, remember.’

  Schism dropped to his knees and put his hands to his face. ‘That was a mistake, I panicked.’

  ‘Stand up!’ Tara demanded.

  He did so, his face contorted in worry.

  ‘Shall I tell you the mistake? The mistake was hiring you!’ she snapped, grabbing his jacket.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s no use being sorry. You’ve just become a liability.’

  Panicked, Schism wrenched himself free, trying to say something but finding his mouth had gone dry.

  Tara shoved Schism backwards. He staggered and fell through the tarpaulin covering the back of the truck, and hit the hood of the following police car with a thump. The driver, unable to see, swerved and spun the car off the road, smashing through the front of a furniture store. Shoppers screamed and ran.

  ‘See what happens to people who are no longer useful? Don’t let it be you,’ Tara said to the captives, with an evil smile on her face.

  The hostages were so sickened that no one said a word. Only a terrible smell of vomit wafted toward Tara.

  ‘Tara! Three more cars behind.’ Karl shouted from the cab.

  Tara moved to the back of the truck, drew back the tarpaulin and looked out. ‘Karl, call ahead on the radio and get that transport ready to go.’

  ‘Roger!’ he called back over his shoulder.

  Tara started to fire at the following police cars, and they swerved wildly across the road, bullets ricocheting off in all directions.

  Karl, who had been listening to a police scanner, informed Tara that a helicopter had been called in to cover the chase.

  ‘Schism!’ she screamed. ‘Karl, find somewhere to lose them.’

  The truck was heading towards a busy part of town. As soon as Tara realized, she moved forwards.

  ‘What the hell are you doing? We need to get out of here!’

  ‘This is the best route, trust me.’

  ‘Jack, Allie, lie down on the floor and keep your heads down!’ Joe shouted.

  The two youths lay down, with the Professor covering them, feeling every bump and jolt the truck made.

  Karl’s voice pierced the noise. ‘There’s a road block ahead!’

  ‘Go through it! We can’t be caught!’ Tara said, determination in her voice.

  ‘It’s your funeral.’ Karl let out a protracted yell as he ploughed the truck through the two-car roadblock.

  The two police cars were smashed beyond repair as they swung away from the impact, debris spreading everywhere. Police officers dived out of the way, landing heavily, narrowly missing death. The truck hit with such force that Karl almost lost control of the vehicle, and he had to battle to regain his heading.

  ‘The truck’s not going to take much more of this!’ Karl called back, trying to see through smoke, which had begun to seep out of the battered hood of the truck.

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Tara shouted, picking herself up off the floor. She took a quick glance at the captives. Satisfied, she took a look out of the truck.

  ‘Strike two! This is better than ten pin bowling.’ She turned around laughing.

  ‘This woman’s psychotic,’ Jack whispered wide-eyed.

  ‘Seriously,’ Joe replied.

  Allie lay there crying and said nothing.

  ‘Don’t worry Allie, it’ll be all right,’ Jack said quietly, hoping he didn’t sound as frightened as he felt.

  ‘The chopper’s arrived,’ Karl yelled. ‘It’s flying low. I’m gonna have to get to the forest soon, or we won’t make it.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Tara said and raised her weapon.

  ‘This is the police. Stop the truck! You are surrounded,’ the helicopter's loudspeaker blared. ‘You can’t escape. Throw out your weapons and stop the truck!’

  Two police cars moved to each side of the road behind the vehicle, with one at the rear.

  ‘They’re trying to box us in!’

  ‘They won’t for long,’ Tara called, as she aimed at the car on the left. She fired at its tires, and the bullets struck home, causing it to swerve and smash into a row of cars parked at the side of the road. The car flipped ten feet into the air and landed upside down in the middle of the road, narrowly missing the other two. Pedestrians ran for their lives, screaming.

  ‘We’re nearly into open country. Not far now,’ Karl yelled.

  ‘They’re not giving up!’

  ‘Shoot the helicopter!’

  Tara rained round after round at the aircraft. The pilot began to pull up out of range when a bullet pierced the glass canopy and struck his console. It exploded in his face, and he slumped over the stick, unconscious, causing the helicopter to dive steeply. The co-pilot tried in vain to remove the collapsed body and regain control of the aircraft.

  The aircraft passed the truck at high speed and hit the ground with a crash and screech of metal. Turning on its side, the rotor blades ruptured, and pieces went flying in all directions. A large section of a blade hurtled towards the truck; smashed its way through the windshield and exited the rear of the vehicle, embedding itself in the radiator of one of the following police cars. The blade hit with such force that it blew open the hood, disrupting the driver's view. The car spun, hit a tree and came to a stop in a ditch.

  Karl didn’t have time to swerve around the wreckage of the helicopter. Instead the truck ploughed through the tail section, and the aircraft pirouetted away.

  The last patrol car followed suit and was blown on its side as the helicopter exploded into a massive fireball.

  Tara was blown to the front of the truck by the shockwave of the blast and received a blow to her head. Blood poured out of a large wound.

  ‘That was close. I thought I was dead. I swear my whole life just passed -’

  ‘Karl. Shut up! I’m hurt!’ Tara yelled angrily.

  ‘Hold on we’re almost there,’ Karl assured her.

  ‘Make it quick.’

  Five minutes later the truck pulled into a side track off the main road. It bumped its way into a forested area and stopped in a clearing by a sm
all river.

  Karl jumped out and ran to the back of the truck.

  ‘Well, you’re gonna have one hell of a headache in the morning.’

  ‘Shut up!’

  ‘Only saying.’

  ‘Where are the others?’

  Karl looked around him. ‘They’re coming, I can see them.’

  ‘Good. Help me out and have the other two take the prisoners to the dingy.’

  Karl helped Tara climb down off the truck and led her toward the river.

  Two men clambered into the truck, unloaded the weapons first and then returned shortly afterwards. They opened the cage, handcuffed the prisoners and blindfolded them.

  ‘No talking. Walk!’ came a gruff voice.

  The prisoners complied and were led, stumbling, to the water’s edge. An explosion ripped the serenity of the clearing as the truck exploded into flames.

  ‘No evidence,’ Joe whispered to Jack.

  They were helped into the dinghy, and each felt a sharp prick in their arm. Then, nothing.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The town of Widikham looked like a bomb site. There was wreckage everywhere, traffic was at a standstill and fire, and ambulance crews were stretched to the limit, trying to cope with the injured. Neighboring towns had sent reinforcements to help with the shortage.

  ‘I want the station closed to the public, and I want this area cordoned off. And get the damned press out of here,’ Chief Winters said.

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ said a police officer, who ran towards the invading press, giving orders on his radio.

  Winters walked up to a Sergeant, who was taking notes from eyewitnesses. He took the Sergeant aside, out of earshot.

  ‘Casualties?’ he asked.

  ‘Five officers critically ill. Three slightly injured. Oh, and we think we have one of the suspects, Sir. He’s been transported to hospital with multiple injuries.’

  ‘Any civilians injured?’

  ‘Nine with flying glass injuries and two who were hit while they were in their car. We have four seriously injured, crushed when one of our cars smashed through a storefront.’

  ‘This is bad,’ muttered Winters. ‘What the hell were they doing chasing the truck? Does Standard Operating Procedure not mean anything anymore? They should have left it to the chopper. You realize the mess this is gonna cause?’

  ‘Well, they got the helicopter too, Sir.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah shot it down. Sir, could it be terrorists?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just, don’t know,’ Winters answered, lost in thought. ‘Sergeant? I want to know the minute that our suspect can talk.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Where are the injured officers?’

  ‘Lieutenant Ritchie’s over there, by that ambulance, Sir. The others have been taken to the hospital,’ the Sergeant said, pointing to Ritchie who was laid on a stretcher near an ambulance.

  ‘Thanks,’ Winters said as he walked away.

  Lieutenant Ritchie was a sight; his hair was matted with blood, and his nose had a deep gash across it.

  ‘You’re a mess,’ Winters stated.

  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was on duty at the train station with my partner, Gibson. We’d just got back to the car after looking for a pickpocket when a group of suspects came towards us, six in all I think. John noticed the boy with them had blood on his face. He got out of the car and asked what happened. I recognized one of the men as that Professor guy that’s been kidnapped. I called John back to the car, told him what I suspected. He agreed, so I started to call it in. John walked back to the group and they ... they shot him in the leg. How is he, Sir?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll find out, though.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘I checked John was all right, and he told me to follow them. So I jumped in the squad car and followed the truck. Next thing I know the guy who shot John comes flying out of the back of the truck and hit my hood. I lost control and ended up in a store window. That’s pretty much it.’

  ‘Okay, that’s enough for now. I can see the ambulance crew want to take you to the hospital. I’ll speak to you later.’ Winters made his way to his car; he had an important call to make.

  The telephone rang on Evans’ desk. ‘Detective Evans,’ he answered.

  ‘Evans. It’s Winters.’

  ‘Hi, how’s it going?’

  Winters filled Evans in on the whole story, and after hearing it, he was stunned.

  ‘I had no idea. News doesn’t travel fast here. Any idea where they are now?’

  ‘No. They’ve disappeared off the face of the planet. Hold please?’

  Evans was put on hold for a few moments, and then Winters returned.

  ‘They found a truck believed to be that of the suspects a few minutes ago, destroyed. It looks like they took a boat down the river.’

  ‘Incidentally, why did you call me?’ Evans asked.

  ‘I heard that you were working on a kidnapping case involving a Professor Simpson.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Evans, intrigued.

  ‘He was identified by one of my officers as part of the group that shot an Officer Gibson. A strange thing, though, it appears that a young boy and girl were with him. Any ideas who they were?’

  Evans thought momentarily. ‘I might. Give me an hour, and I’ll call you back.’

  ‘Right.’

  Evans put down the receiver and called his colleague Ross over.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Do we still have a man at the Simpson house?’

  ‘Yes. He’s been there all night,’ Ross replied.

  ‘Right, get him on the radio and tell him to check that the Simpson kid is still there. Then get the car ready.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Just do it, will you?’

  Ross bit his tongue and left the office, grabbing a radio and his jacket on the way.

  Evans straightened up a few files on his desk and left for the car park.

  ‘The boy’s not there, Sir.’ Ross said as he drove Evans to the Simpson home. ‘Our man said something about a note that the boy had left.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Ever thought to ask?’ Evans said annoyed. ‘Never mind, we’ll soon be there.’

  The car pulled into the driveway of the house. Both men jumped out, and Evans rang the doorbell. Natalie Simpson answered with a distressed look on her face. ‘Bad news. Jack has run away,’ she said as she led them into the kitchen.

  ‘What do you mean, run away?’ he asked.

  ‘This will explain. I found it after I was woken up by your guard.’ Natalie passed the note Jack had left to the detective. ‘I can’t believe Joseph would ask Jack to do something like that.’

  Evans studied the note thoroughly, checking both sides. ‘Do you know anybody in Middleton?’ he enquired.

  ‘A few people. But Joe works there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘ACI Labs,’ she answered.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A Government place. It’s top secret.’

  ‘Why would your husband send Jack there?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said after a moment.

  The Detective couldn’t think of any more questions to ask Mrs Simpson and asked her for the address of the complex.

  ‘At least we have a bit more to go on now. If you think of anything else, please call me. Here’s my card.’ Evans handed it over.

  ‘Please, just find them.’

  ‘I’ll do my best. Oh, one last thing. Do you know if Jack would have run off with a girl, a girlfriend or something? Maybe that girl he was with yesterday?’

  ‘If he did, he’d have probably gone with Allie. Alison Richards.’

  ‘Do you know her address?’

  ‘It’s eighteen Mill Street, I think.’

  ‘Thank you. We’
ll be in touch when we hear something.’

  Evans and Ross left the house and sat in the car.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell her about the sighting?’

  ‘I can’t get her hopes up, not until I have some substantial evidence.’

  ‘True. Where to?’ Ross said, reversing the car down the drive.

  ‘Alison Richards house, eighteen Mill Street. I think we need to ask her a few questions. If she’s there.’

  The car spent twenty minutes waiting in a traffic jam as they left the area. But finally, they got underway, much to the relief of Ross. His superior could become very irritable at times if things were working against him.

  ‘Number eighteen was it?’

  ‘Yes, and about time,’ Evans moaned.

  They stopped outside Allie’s house, the car crushing an old beer can in the gutter.

  ‘Looks like everyone’s asleep,’ Ross offered, who had noticed that the curtains were drawn.

  ‘We’ll have to wake them up then,’ Evans said as he strode up to the door and gave it a hard knock.

  ‘All right, all right! What are you trying to do break the door in?’ Came a rough male voice through the door. It was flung open and a man, who looked as if he had just been woken up, stood there, in nothing more than pajama bottoms and a two-day growth of hair on his face. ‘This had better be good pal!’

  The detectives pulled out their identification and showed them to the householder.

  ‘I’m Detective Evans; this is Ross from Hopewell Police Department. Are you Mr Richards?’

  ‘That’s me. What’s this all about?’

  ‘I have a few questions, Mr Richards?’

  ‘Paul’s the name. It depends what it’s about, whether I’ll answer or not.’

  ‘May we enter?’ Ross said.

  ‘Yeah, I suppose so, but don’t expect any coffee,’ he said, strolling up the hallway.

  The officers were led into a cramped living room, which, by the look of it, hadn’t been cleaned in months.