Dangerous Code

by Stella Marie Alden

  She says, “I can’t see any other way to save Grace. Can you? We need to put an end to this.”

  I don’t want her anywhere near that twisted rapist but as we wait throughout the night for him to contact us, it becomes clear. We’ll be negotiating with bullets.

  Chapter 27

  Megan as bait.

  Taking a deep breath, I pace along the dark pier in Secaucus. Normally the ocean lapping near my feet would be comforting, but now it grates on already frayed nerves. A fog horn bleats in the distance and seagulls screech. How much longer is this going to take?

  About a mile away, a crane lifts metal containers high into the air, then slowly stacks them onto a cargo ship. Somewhere out there, in giant Lego land, a team of men are standing by, ready to take down Mahmoud and help me get Grace back.

  The air wets my face like a damp rag, the wind picks up off the ocean, and I perch on the edge of a bench with my hands in my pocket. Dammit, the waiting is driving me nuts. I want this to be over with.

  Poor Grace. Not only is she my Mom, she’s really my only friend. If anything happens to her, I’ll be all alone in this world. This plan has got to work.

  Where is Mahmoud? I wonder if he’s having second thoughts about the exchange. Did he see one of the military men and call the whole thing off?

  Fin said my role is to sit and look vulnerable. Funny enough, that’s pretty hard to do so instead I pace thinking how much I want my old mentor dead, how much I want to kick the shit out of him.

  At a shuffling noise and a whiff of booze on the breeze, I stop in my tracks and turn, expecting the worse. Then I exhale when out between the containers, a drunk shuffles forward with hand outstretched. Piercing blue eyes that I would know anywhere shine, under the hoodie.

  Colin says, “Change, lady?”

  “Uh,” How would I normally react in a situation like this? I take a couple steps away from him and shake my head no. I’d never open my purse in a place like this.

  He winks, mutters something about being a cheap bitch, and wanders away but I feel a whole lot better knowing he’s close by.

  Ten more minutes slowly tick by. What is Mahmoud waiting for? The exchange was supposed to take place over an hour ago.

  As the sun rises, the pier next door comes to life, with what appears to be union guys on their way to work. Soon, someone is bound to see me and ask me to leave.

  Fin warned you this could happen, Jones. Chill out.

  I sit for the first time, the bench cold against my ass. An odd metallic click sounds from under me. I start to bend over to investigate but a bar springs shut over my head and locks tight around my shoulders.

  “Colin!” Shit oh shit oh shit.

  Then there’s this crack like a gunshot and me and my whole friggin’ bench shoot up into the air, the ground drops away, and a woman screams hysterically.

  Jones, that’s you. Stop.

  My bench swings, sways, and turns in circles while I grip onto the sick carnival ride.

  Try to focus. If Mahmoud wanted you dead, you would be.

  Colin, Fin, and team aren’t prepared for this. For a moment I admire Mahmoud’s creativity. I know it’s weird, but that’s how my brain works. He must’ve hid the crane’s wire in the water, the bar behind the bench seemed decorative. The trigger was in the seat.

  Making my brain solve puzzles dispels some of my fear but my God, I’m swinging a few stories above a cargo ship. What if I fall?

  The weight of the bench is nothing compared to the tons in a container and the crane operator has no doubt been doing this for years.

  Riiight. I’m probably safe as a babe in a cradle. Below, tiny people run around like ants. When shots are fired, I pull my legs to my chest and head to my thighs, hoping to avoid a stray bullet.

  What about the bullets? Huh?

  Below, men move into position, guns aimed. I start to warn my team but the bench lurches and my screams are for my life. Now high above the water, I spy a small yacht speeding toward the container ship. If that’s my destination, I am so screwed.

  Chapter 28

  Colin

  From atop a stack of containers, I focus my rifle’s scope on Megan’s face. Her raw panic does a number on me but I need to hold my shit together or she’ll end up in Saudi Arabia.

  “Team Tango. They have Jones. I say again, Jones is in the air, lifted by crane. Stand by.”

  “Say again. Did you say lifted by crane?” Simon’s muffled voice crackles in my headset. He’s in the water behind the cargo ship and can’t see what I’m seeing.

  I shudder and descend from my post. “Affirmative. Jones is on a bench, sixty feet over the ship.”

  “Roger that. We’re boarding now.” As planned, Simon and team will climb up the port side of that vessel, two off the bow and two aft. That much of Grace’s rescue won’t change. However. no one had foreseen the crane and bench fiasco.

  When a yacht in the channel approaches at high speed, I stop climbing down and head back up to the top of my stack of containers. Then the arm of Megan’s crane pivots and her bench lowers. Before she slips out of sight, I contact the sharp shooter stationed in the dock-side hoist. From the height of a skyscraper, he can see everything.

  “Lee? Is she still in the air? Holding on?” I hold my breath. She couldn’t possibly survive a fall from that height.

  Lee responds immediately “She’s secure under some kind of metal loop, holding her chest to the bench.”

  Thank fuck. “Copy that. If that yacht parks below her, take out the skipper.”

  I have to assume that’s just what happens because there’s gunshots followed by a yacht speeding into the pier. Unlike the movies, there’s no huge explosion, just a loud crunch, followed by crew members jumping into the water.

  Overhead, Megan’s bench comes back into view, swinging high above the cargo ship. I convince myself she’s better up there than in a yacht heading for the Middle East. No doubt Mahmoud was going to swap vessels far off the coast and she’d be gone forever.

  I swallow down my emotions and focus. Then there’s only me, my guys, and the mission. Nothing more. Just then, the sound of tires on gravel makes me turn toward the pier. A black sedan parks and three men in dark suits exit. Surprise, surprise. Guess what? One of those guys is Special Agent John Drew.

  “O’Brien? I know you’re out there.” He fastens the middle button of his jacket and casually surveys the maze of containers.

  I speak softly into my comm, “Don’t shoot. We’ve got no proof he’s involved.”

  To him I don’t say jack. Let him sweat.

  He shouts, “Stand down, O’Brien. The FBI has it from here.”

  Like hell I will. “Back off Drew or take a bullet. I got this.”

  “Don’t shoot. I’ve made contact with Teherizad. I’ve negotiated her release. Stand down.”

  Rigggght. Sure he has.

  Until I have proof, I can’t kill the ass hat. It can’t be helped.

  I say, “Let him pass.”

  However, he’s in my scope’s crosshairs in case he tries something stupid as he walks over a small plywood gangplank. He tosses it into the water after he enters the ship, and closes the door with a resounding thud.

  Somehow I got a bad feeling the only thing he’s discussed with Mahmoud is his get-out-of-jail-free card.

  High above, Megan shouts out my name, her flying bench finally making a touchdown atop the cargo ship containers. I shoot the guy approaching her, race to the edge of the pier, and throw off my Kevlar. Then I kick off my boots and dive. The cold water tamps my ire. Minutes later I’m climbing the ropes left by Simon’s team, ready for war.

  I’m coming Meggie-pie. Hang in there.

  Chapter 29

  Megan.

  With my ears ringing from the shots just fired, I squirm out from under the bench’s metal hold and drop to my stomach. The guy who was about to grab me lies motionless with a quarter size hole in his forehead.

  Before I can process
that bloody horror, a bearded gunman in a knit cap pokes his head up at the portside, waving his pistol. “Don’t move.”

  Where could I possibly go? Perhaps I could jump but from this height it would be suicidal and I’m not there. At least not yet.

  “Now stand up and walk toward me.” The man’s stringy blond hair whips around his face.

  Not having much choice in the matter, I say goodbye to Megan’s Flying Circus and inch toward him. Then I count over a hundred metal rungs as I climb down, the strong ocean wind at my back.

  As soon as I drop onto a narrow walkway, my captor’s pistol digs into the small of my back urging me along the length of the ship. According to Fin’s plan, Navy Seals were supposed to be stationed in the water in case anything went wrong but I’m sure no one ever thought my bench would get airborne.

  My eyes stay glued straight ahead because if I show any indication of the Seals presence, I could get them all killed.

  More shots are fired on land and my heart pounds, worried for Colin. I should never have agreed to Fin’s plan. Mahmoud is too smart.

  Thinking how to escape, I pass through a metal door into a long hallway. Blondie walks me past a laundry room, a common dining area, and what I assume are bedrooms. Then a cabin door opens and I’m struck dumb, my mind sliding back to the past.

  Mahmoud’s evil sneer hasn’t changed although his facial features are altered from what I remember. I lunge forward, hoping to claw his eyes out but blondie tugs me back by my hair. When I shout with pain, Mahmoud smiles. Oh my God, it really is him. Thinking him alive was bad enough. Seeing him in person makes my skin crawl.

  “Where’s Grace? What did you do with her?”

  “She’s fine. As long as you stay, let’s say compliant. Take her.” He puts a hand to his crotch. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  Very shortly, if I recall.

  The blond goon twists my arm to the edge of breaking, pushes me forward into that cabin and locks me in. “Clean up and be pretty or have no doubts, he’ll kill your friend. He’s bloomin’ bonkers.”

  I am strong, I am a survivor. The captain’s quarters are large. There must be something in here that can serve as a weapon. A double bed takes up one corner, built-in cabinets line one wall under a sliding glass window. There’s also a small chair, writing table, and a futon-like couch.

  I open all the drawers until I hit payday. I find a bottle of Jack. That’ll have to do. Then I stand behind the door, hold it high, and wait. Footsteps sound in the hall followed by the door handle’s rattle.

  I grit my teeth and hold the neck tight, picturing the top of his head. When the door opens, I take a deep breath. Just one second more…

  Hold it…

  I smash the bottle down upon his head with all my might. Bullets spray as he falls onto his back. Holes appear in the cabin wall, up the ceiling, and out the door.

  There’s a grunt out in the hallway and a body goes down.

  “You cunt!” Mahmoud gets off the floor, blood running down his face. His gun barrel points at me and then out the door, alternating back and forth.

  I shuffle forward so I can see who’s out there.

  Oh my God. Colin’s on his knees, blood pooling on the floor with a pistol pointed at Mahmoud. This is all my fault.

  “Drop the weapon.” Colin’s growl is dangerous and from his stance, he’s about to spring.

  He could get himself killed! I know Mahmoud won’t shoot me. The choice is a no-brainer. I whip out a heel at Mahmoud’s arm and he drops the gun.

  “Run. Colin. Run.” I slam the door.

  Mahmoud punches my face and my neck snaps back. Then I hit the floor, stars flashing behind my eyelids.

  Chapter 30

  Meggie. I can’t believe she closed the door on me. God damn that woman! I had a real good chance at taking out that bastard.

  The boat lurches, I hit the wall, and inspect my wound. The bullet made matching holes, front and back, just below my rib cage. Bleeding like a stuck pig, I race to the laundry room, and fashion a makeshift bandage by ripping apart a pillowcase.

  While I’m in there, Megan’s door opens, Teherizad looks both ways, then runs. I could make chase and take him out but I’m more concerned about her. What if she’s bleeding out, caught from the same wild blast that hit me?

  Thankfully Fin provided top-of-the-line communications for everyone. “The Hatter’s heading aft, armed with semi-automatic.”

  “Copy that.” Joe acknowledges first, followed by Georgio, and Dan but there’s no word yet from Simon and Fin.

  “Meggie, open up.” When there’s no response, I shoot off the lock and enter.

  Oh no. She’s down.

  Please, just let her be alive. My throat’s thick and my eyes sting. I’m actually praying as I kneel beside her body and check her pulse. When my fingers feel the weak beat at her neck, I thank the Almighty, and promise to make good on the whole church thing. Then after wiping my face with the back of my hand, I thoroughly check her for injuries. The only wounds I find are the angry welt swelling on her chin and a bump the size of a golfball on the back of her head.

  “Alice is alive but unconscious. What’s your status, Rabbit?” The comm responds with static followed by rapid gunfire. “I say again, Rabbit, what’s your status?”

  “We’re pinned down on the aft deck. A bit of backup would be nice.” Joe uses the same tone he uses for pass the potatoes.

  “Copy that.” That’s Simon. Thank Fuck. He’ll make short work of the hired thugs.

  “Meggie. Wake up. We need to get out of here.” Her crazy Arab stalker could return any second.

  She stirs and moans but lids stay closed. I pick her up, walk her down the hall, and stop at a door marked lounge.

  “Mmmm! Mmph!” It sounds like I found the missing crew.

  “NYPD. Stand clear.” Another lock is destroyed and as I set Meggie gently down on a couch, I count about a dozen gagged men tied up on the floor.

  “How many gunmen are there?” I approach the guy with the captain’s bars and rip the duct tape off his mouth.

  “I counted about eight, but I heard more arrive later.” He rolls onto his side so I can free his hands.

  “Did you see an older, red-haired woman? Southern accent?”

  “Yeah. She’s in the machine room.”

  “Alive?”

  “She was when last I saw her.” The captain stands and starts to free up his crew.

  “Help is on the way. Stay put, stay quiet, and watch her for me.” I point to my battered girlfriend.

  When this is over, I swear I’m going to lock her in my apartment where she’ll never get injured again.

  I show the captain my pistol. “Do you know how to use it?”

  He takes it with a curt nod.

  Georgio sounds almost amused in my headset, “Allons-y. Tout de suite.”

  I almost forgot how much the geek loves a good gunfight. Weirdest thing ever.

  “Copy that. On my way.” Holding towels tight to my side, I grit my teeth and head forward toward the gunfire.

  Once there, I lay on my belly with the aft door cracked open. “Rabbit, what is your position?”

  Joe says, “Stay low. There’s two shooters on top of the containers. Four more on deck.”

  One mercenary steps out with his back to me. It takes just a second to break the guy’s neck and take his automatic.

  Joe curses, fires, and one of the mercenaries falls over the railing. High above on top of the containers Simon appears. He sneaks up behind the last two shooters and takes them out.

  I hear him in my comm unit. “Get the Mad Hatter. We’re good here.”

  I close the door, stand, and grimace at the blood dripping from my wound. Where are Drew and Teherizad? I thought for sure I’d find them on deck.

  Suddenly my gut wrenches. They’ve gone back for Megan. No doubt to use her as a hostage. That’s what I would do. I head back down the hall and calm a bit when I note that the lounge door is close
d. She’s safely tucked away with the captain.

  Just ahead, Teherizad stops with his hand on the door handle.

  I take aim. “Freeze.”

  “You won’t risk her. Put your gun down or I shoot her.”

  “Drop your weapon!”

  Mahmoud Teherizad cracks the door open, lowers slowly to his knees and puts his weapon on the carpet. “I surrender, mate. Don’t shoot.”

  “Kick the weapon to me.” I don’t trust this bastard further than I can throw him.

  His smile widens, almost cartoon-like. “You can’t touch me. I have diplomatic immunity.”

  He’s right and it makes me sick. As much as I want to shoot the bastard, it would create a hell of an international incident. And Drew would love to see me go down.

  Whatever. I can arrest the son of a bitch. “Hands on your head.”

  He ducks behind the door and I follow on his heels. I’m not a boy scout, but neither will I shoot an unarmed man, not even a rapist.

  When I enter, he turns in front of an open dresser with his hands behind his back. He’s got a weapon.

  I take aim, this time ready to fire. “Arms up very, very slowly.”

  Instead of a gun, he’s got a remote and presses play. His twisted video starts and then I can’t believe my ears when Megan gasps behind me. Why can’t she stay put?

  Mahmoud still has that sick grin plastered on his face. “I just wanted you to see this. She asked me for it. Wanted it. Begged for it. It wasn’t rape.”

  I try not to watch but he’s right. She’s asking for him to make love to her. She’s just a teen. Shy. Obviously a virgin. Just because she asked for it doesn’t make it right. But at sixteen, it could be legal in some states.

  “Give me that.” Megan walks in, clearly shaken.

  When he refuses, she takes a quick fist to his nose and the guy goes to his knees. I should stop this, but whatever.

  She stops the video and forwards it to where she’s screaming for him to get off from her and I know it’s for my benefit. Maybe it’s for hers. “I. Did. Not. Want. This.”

  “Enough, Meggie. Get out of here.” It’s too dangerous so I push her behind me but not before she gives the guy a fierce kick to the groin.