by Sharon Sala
He’d put his job before Shelly for the very last time.
Thirteen
It was dark now, and yet Jack rode through traffic like a madman—weaving his way in and out of the cars, risking everything as he flew through intersections. Once he got on the 610 Loop, he opened up the Indian, and then everything around him became a blur of lights. Every heartbeat he prayed a mantra. She’s alive. She’s alive. He needed to believe that, if he gave that intention to the universe, then it would be so.
Just when he was beginning to think he’d never get there, he saw the exit sign to the airport. He shifted lanes and then rode the shoulder of the highway, passing traffic as if it were standing still. He slipped off the Loop onto the exit ramp and shot down the incline, downshifted gears and began passing any car that was in his way until he finally saw the buildings in the distance beyond the runways. But how the hell did he get to them?
Fate answered as he rode up on an open gate and shot through it without stopping. It took him straight onto the blacktop running parallel to a couple of miles of chain-link fencing. The runway lights beyond the fences were bright enough that he could see the buildings, but none of them had any kind of Hostess Twinkies logo painted on the side.
Then he rode up on a property at the same time he saw the logo and took the turn into it in a slide, righted the bike and accelerated.
As he neared the building, he began to worry. He didn’t see any open doors, but his headlights did flash on a gravel road that appeared to encircle the building. He took it fast, sending gravel flying in his wake, and the moment he turned the corner, he saw the huge doors open to the night, just like Ito said they would be.
“Please, God, let her be here,” he said, and rode straight into the warehouse.
At first he saw nothing but what was directly lit by the headlights on his bike. He braked for a few seconds to survey the area, then began slowly riding the bike around the interior. It wasn’t until he turned a corner and headed to the other end of the building that his headlights flashed on some kind of structure. He accelerated, and as he rode up to it, he aimed his headlights into the interior before he dismounted. He toed down the kickstand, leaving it idling as he ran inside.
He saw a man’s body on the floor, rats crawling all over it, unbothered by the light and sound cast from his bike. The he saw Shelly on the cot and screamed out in horror and rage.
Rats began scattering at his approach, but not fast enough. He sent one flying with a kick of his boot, which aided in the others’ rapid disappearance.
The headlights from his bike illuminated the worst of her injuries, and she was so hurt he was afraid to touch her. When he felt for a pulse at the base of her neck and it was there, a faint but steady throb, he choked on a sob. Now he had to get her free.
Something squeaked in the dark behind him, but he ignored it as he began cutting away at the ropes.
“Shelly, it’s me, Jack! I found you, baby. Stay with me. Stay with me. I’ll get you out of here.”
A few quick slashes and her hands were free, then he freed her legs. Rage billowed inside him when he touched the bloody cut down the middle of her chest. If he’d known what Ito had done to her, he would have killed him where he sat.
He felt the heat of her body, but the fact that she was no longer sweating scared him. She was so dehydrated that there wasn’t enough water left in her body to sweat. He pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
As soon as the dispatcher had the location, Jack began grabbing unopened bottles of water and poured the first one all over her face, then down her neck and all the way down the bloody cut. Then he opened another bottle and lifted her head a few inches before he put the bottle to her lips.
“Shelly, it’s water. Swallow it, baby!” He let a few drops trickle into her mouth, but they ran back out.
“Please, God, help me,” he whispered, and then held the bottle to her lips again. “Shelly, it’s Jack. Open your mouth and swallow.” He let a few more drops trickle in and thought he saw her throat move. “One more time, sweetheart...for me. It’s water. Swallow it.”
And this time when he poured in a few drops, her mouth opened and she drank.
“That’s my girl! Here’s some more,” he said, and poured a little more into her mouth, making sure she didn’t choke.
When he laid her back down to get another bottle, he heard something scurrying beneath the cot, and so did she. She let out a scream that would haunt him for the rest of his life, and that was when he knew she’d been terrorized by more than Adam Ito in this dump.
“I’m here, baby. You’re safe now,” he said, and picked her up in his arms and carried her out of that room, away from the rats, the decomposing body and the stench.
He got on the bike with her, then draped her upper body across his left arm and the handlebars, and the rest of her across his lap, letting her legs dangle as he rode with her toward the doorway.
As he neared the opening, the faint sound of sirens could be heard. Clearing the doors, he rolled out into the night and looked up just as the first flash of lightning from the approaching thunderstorm streaked across the sky. The storm was coming, but so was help. The sirens were getting louder and louder.
He needed to notify the Bureau about Adam Ito, and as soon as he had her safely balanced across his lap and her head pillowed against his shoulder, he made the call.
* * *
Charlie was holding his son when his phone began to vibrate, and when he recognized the number, he quickly answered.
“Jack?”
“I found her,” Jack said. “She’s alive but in bad shape. I’m waiting on an ambulance, so I’m giving you a heads-up that if the Bureau wants Adam Ito alive, they need to rescue him fast.”
“What the hell happened?” Charlie asked.
“He needed persuading. I left him bleeding.”
“Shit, Jack...”
“No...he’s the shit in this scenario. He’s at a place he calls his bunker, so—”
“I’m on it!” Charlie said. “You go take care of Shelly. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Lightning flashed again—this time a little closer.
And just like that, the breath left Jack’s body, his heart pounding so fast he thought he might die.
There were tears in his eyes as he pulled up his Contacts and then hit Call on yet another number that was answered on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Deputy Director Wainwright, this is Jack McCann.”
“Jack! I heard the good news that you are alive. We are all elated.”
“Yes, sir, and thank you, but we have a problem.”
The delight in Arch Wainwright’s voice shifted to all business.
“What’s going on?”
“My wife was kidnapped from our home yesterday afternoon by Adam Ito and his brother. I’ve been looking for her ever since. I found Ito first and persuaded him to tell me where she was. I just found her, and the body of Ito’s brother beside the cot she was on. She’s alive but in serious condition. An ambulance is on the way. I can hear the sirens, but I already called my contact, Charlie Morris, and told him I had found Ito.”
“Wonderful! I’ll check in...but I’m sure he’s already working on getting him into custody.”
“No, sir... I don’t think he is.”
“What are you saying?” Wainwright asked.
“I told him he needed to get to Ito fast, because he might not be alive and that he was bleeding when I left him. I told Charlie that if the Bureau wanted him alive, they better hurry. I told him Ito was in a place he called ‘his bunker,’ when Charlie suddenly interrupted me, said he’d get right on it and hung up.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not following you,” Wainwright said.
“I’ve already reported to Charlie that there is a leak in our Bureau and how
I knew it. But when I called Charlie just now, I did not give him an address for Ito’s location. He should have no way of knowing the address of that bunker, because that address is not on the list of properties we have. Unless he’s affiliated with Ito, he should not know where that bunker is. I’m telling you now that if Ito isn’t dead when Charlie gets there, he’ll be dead by the time our Bureau boys show. Charlie has been my best friend for years, but...I can’t deny how this looks. I strongly suspect he’s the leak—the leak that nearly got me killed, and the reason my wife was kidnapped. Stop him.”
“Give me that address,” Wainwright said, and Jack did, along with the instructions on how to access the bunker. “I hope you’re wrong,” Wainwright said. “But this shit doesn’t go unpunished on my watch. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jack said, then looked up just as the ambulance took the turn into the gate, spotlighting Jack and Shelly in the oncoming headlights.
The ambulance came to a sliding stop, and then paramedics seemed to spill out of the ambulance from every direction. Behind them, a police car raced through the gate, coming toward them with lights and siren.
The paramedics took Shelly from Jack’s arms and laid her down onto the gurney. Jack leaped off his bike and followed them as they pushed her toward the back of the ambulance.
Just before they put her in the ambulance, Jack leaned down and whispered near her ear.
“You’re safe, baby. I’ll see you at the hospital. I love you so much, and everything’s going to be okay.”
Then the paramedics lifted her and the gurney into the ambulance so they could assess her beneath the lights.
“What happened to her?” one asked, as another was trying to put in an IV. But she was so dehydrated they couldn’t find a vein. They started looking for one down around her ankle when they saw the infected wounds.
“What the hell is this?” the paramedic asked.
“Rat bites,” Jack said. “Her name is Shelly McCann. She was kidnapped yesterday evening. I’m her husband, FBI Special Agent Jack McCann. I just found her. Where are you taking her?”
“Memorial Hermann Southeast Hospital on Astoria.”
The paramedic tried her arm again for the IV and then suddenly shouted. “I got a vein! Load up. We can move.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Jack said, and ran back to his bike as a cop approached him.
“What happened here?” the cop asked.
Jack pulled his badge.
“I’m Special Agent Jack McCann. That’s my wife in the ambulance that just left. She was kidnapped yesterday afternoon from our home. There is a dead man inside the warehouse at the far end.”
“Did you kill him?” the cop asked.
“No. He’s been dead for hours. Rats were all over him when I got here. I’m guessing his brother did it.”
“His brother?”
Jack sighed. “Look, it’s all part of an ongoing FBI case, although I understand the dead body being found on this property falls under your jurisdiction. I have to get to the hospital. If you want answers, call Deputy Director Wainwright at the State Office of the FBI. I’ll be at Memorial Hermann Southeast...on Astoria.”
He took off after the ambulance as the cop ran back to his car and drove inside the warehouse, then down to the office. One look inside and he was back in the cruiser, calling dispatch to notify Homicide that they had a new crime scene.
* * *
Charlie was already gathering up his weapon and his ID to head out when Alicia returned.
“I put Johnny down. What’s happening?” she said.
“Jack found Shelly. They’re on the way to the hospital. I’ve got to call in the crew so we can pick up Adam Ito. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I think this is finally winding down.”
“Be so careful,” Alicia said.
Charlie wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
“I love you so much,” he whispered. “You and Johnny are my world. I don’t ever plan for trouble, but just know that if anything ever does happen to me, I’ve made sure you two will be fine, money-wise. The info is in our safety deposit box.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Alicia said. “You’ll be fine. Johnny and I need you, okay?”
He leaned down and kissed her, then moments later he was out the door. He took off toward Pasadena. As soon as he made a quick reconnoiter, he’d call in the troops.
* * *
It was pain that shifted Adam from an unconscious state to being alert with pure fear. He knew from the looks of his feet and knee that if he lived through this, he might not walk again. He had never been this afraid. Not even standing before his father and the cartel thinking they would kill him. It was eye-opening to be on the other side of violence. Before, he had dished it out, but now he knew what it was like to receive it.
He rocked back and forth in the chair, moaning beneath his breath as wave after wave of pain rolled through him until there was no beginning and no end. He didn’t know what he wanted more—for the Feds to come save him or to let him die. What he did know was that he didn’t want to see Jack McCann’s face again. Adam’s only hope at survival was McCann finding his woman alive.
He tried to think of something else besides the pain and focused on the faucet over the sink. It leaked. He began watching the drips, counting the time between each one. He was getting weaker. Losing too much blood. He was wishing for a drink—a drink and pain pills, lots of pain pills—as the room began to spin, when he suddenly thought he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. For a moment, the steps ceased, and then started moving again. The fact that there was only one set of footsteps was bad news. The Feds came in packs. Oh hell, McCann was back.
And then a man he didn’t know walked into the kitchen, and he saw a ray of hope.
“Please help me. I’ve been robbed,” Adam said. “Untie me and call an ambulance. I need to go to the hospital.”
The man didn’t comment. He just kept staring, almost as if he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.
Adam moaned. “I hurt...so bad. Have mercy.”
The man pulled a weapon from a shoulder holster beneath his jacket.
“What the hell?” Adam shrieked. “I don’t even know you.”
“Uh, no, you do know me, and that’s the trouble here.”
It was the voice that gave him away. “You!” Adam gasped. “How did you know this was here?”
“I know everything about you,” Charlie said. “And yes, it’s me. You weren’t supposed to get away. You were supposed to go to prison along with everyone else, which would have put an end to our tenuous relationship. I wanted out and arresting you was tying up loose ends.”
“Who are you?” Adam asked.
Before Charlie Morris could answer, a team of FBI agents swarmed in behind him, with Deputy Director Wainwright in the lead.
Charlie sputtered as the deputy director issued an order.
“Agent Warren, go back up and get the paramedics. Tell them the site is cleared and safe to proceed.”
Warren was staring at Charlie as if he’d never seen him before, and Charlie was in shock. This shouldn’t be happening. And then he saw the looks on the other agents’ faces and gave in to the bone-deep misery of knowing it was over.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“Jack figured it out,” Wainwright said. “You didn’t wait to ask for an address to this place when you hung up on him. The only way you’d know where it was is if you’re the leak...the man connected to Adam Ito.”
“Tell him I’m sorry,” Charlie said, and before he could be disarmed, he put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
Chaos erupted.
* * *
Jack rolled up to the ER entrance in front of a security guard and parked off to the side of the doorway.
; “Hey, you can’t park there,” the guard yelled.
Jack flashed his badge. “FBI,” he said. “That was my wife they brought in.”
The guard waved him through, but Jack was already inside with his helmet in one hand and his badge clutched in the other as he ran up to the desk.
“Shelly McCann. Where did they take her?” he asked, and flashed the badge.
The receptionist checked her computer. “Exam room five,” she said, and then pointed at the double doors. “That way.”
Jack could hear someone crying as he entered the ward. He knew without asking that it was Shelly and started running.
He entered as they were trying to take blood. A nurse was trying to hold her shoulders, and the lab tech was struggling to get a needle in her arm. It was obvious that she was disoriented and afraid. He pushed past the nurse trying to hold her down and glared at the lab tech.
“Both of you! Just a second, dammit.”
He sat down on the side of the bed and gently lifted her from the bed into his arms.
“Hey, baby, it’s me, Jack. You’re in a hospital. You’re safe.”
She was still sobbing and trying to talk, but her words were unintelligible.
“I know, I know,” he said, and started rocking her. “I caught the bad man. I saw the rats. I know what he did to you. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
She kept shaking and clutching at his clothes and feeling for hair that was missing and feeling a beard that didn’t used to be there. It sounded like Jack, but she couldn’t see him and couldn’t believe he was real.
“Jack?” she kept saying.
“Yes, Shelly, it’s me.”
“Jack? My Jack?”
Tears were rolling down his face and he didn’t know it.
“Yes, your Jack...forever yours.”
Then she went limp in his arms. “I didn’t tell,” she said softly.
Jack laid his head against her hair. “I know. You are the bravest woman in the whole world. The lab tech needs to take a blood sample to help you get well. Is that okay with you?”
