Jill Oliver Deception Thrillers

by Price, Judith

  She would talk to Leila more about her viewing when she returned from meeting Stan. She would tell her what she knew. She had to trust someone.

  A black Audi limo crawled up the short, busy driveway in front of the hotel and the back window, squeaking slowly, rolled down. A pudgy face stuck out.

  “Hello, Jill,” Stan rasped. He opened the door and stepped out closer to her. His blue suit tightened when he leaned forward to give her a shallow hug as he nudged her into the backseat of the car. She began to ask him why he was in Hamburg. Jill noted his agitated finger tapping his knee as she quizzed him.

  “I have some business here and I wanted to make sure it was done correctly,” he coughed.

  “Your oil business? What type of oil business are you in exactly again?”

  “Oh, Jill,” his voice said with a hint of a growl. “My business is much too boring to talk about. Boardroom meetings, contract negotiations, things of that nature. Let’s discuss what I know you’re truly interested in. I am planning to leave Hamburg tomorrow night and wanted to see you before I left. I guess you are working on a case of some sort. Are you helping to find David? Do you think David is in Hamburg? Why would he be in Hamburg, Jill?”

  Jill stared at Stan and wondered why he was asking all these questions. It was difficult trusting a man who shared little to nothing of her husband. David didn’t look like Stan and Jill had a hard time seeing any resemblance as father and son. David had a full thick head of hair and it would be highly unlikely that he would ever go bald like Stan was. “Ah, I don’t know. I think he is working on some sort of story and I am truly worried about what it is?” Jill thought of telling him more, then remembered the schematic, article and David’s notebook. She blurted, “I heard you got a new contract in Afghanistan. Have you been there?”

  “It’s business, Jill. Let’s discuss how we can find David.”

  “We?”

  “I’d just made some calls to some informative people to see if they could find out any information on David’s whereabouts when I got your message. So far nothing, but I’ll let you know when I hear back from them. Why do you think David is in Hamburg Jill?”

  “I'm not sure,” Jill was dumbfounded and sat quietly trying to decide if she should ask him about Kushka, about Petrovich. She wanted to see his reaction. She wanted to see his eyes, the blinks. But it was too soon, Jill needed more information. They sat in silence as the driver sped along the straight canals.

  Stan seemed to be uncomfortable with the silence. “Well, if David didn't lead you to Hamburg, what did Jill?”

  “I ah, it's work related. Where are we going?” Jill snapped, feeling slightly uneasy. He turned towards her like a lazy bulldog.

  “You know, Jill, sometimes David can be impulsive and when he gets that way he makes stupid decisions.” Jill thought she saw a slight sneer. “Has he left anything for you? Any word or documents of any kind?”

  “What are you talking about, Stan? What documents? And are you saying David is stupid? You think because he is working on a story undercover that it's impulsive?” Jill’s anger roiled.

  “You don’t have to raise your voice, Jill,” Stan said snidely.

  “Pull the hell over,” she yelled to the driver. She didn’t have time for this bullshit right now.

  “It’s a long walk, Jill. We’ll take you back to the hotel.”

  “Pull over now,” Jill yelled louder. “I knew this was a bad idea, Stan.” The car jerked to a stop barely long enough for Jill to jump out of the backseat and slam the door shut.

  “Shit!” She landed in a pothole and looked back at the car. She thought she could see Stan smirking as he drove away.

  She stood silent as a mist of rain threatened to open its floodgates. It would figure! It was pissing alright, but no way could she bear another second with Stan. She should have trusted her instincts. She should have trusted David. What the hell documents was he talking about? Asshole. She began to shiver but couldn’t determine if it was from anger or from the cold. She needed to get her bearings.

  Only dark brick surrounded her. She could hear the trickle of water coming down the drainpipes from the ever-increasing rain shower. She stood in a long dark back alley. To her left, darkness. To the right about 50 meters at the end were the streetlights of the sleeping city. The alley loomed like a black tunnel; no moonlight penetrated the narrow walkway.

  A few minutes passed and Jill’s heart rate began to slow. Carefully, with only the lights from the apartment buildings above her guiding her way, she crept along close to the side of the alley. Her soggy boots sloshed when she walked into the open street.

  There were scarcely any cars on the road, but she could swear that last one on the left side of the next intersection was Stan’s Audi. Is he following me? There was little movement on the streets, and no noise except a small ummp-pah-pahing pub across the road. Her pace hastened as she dodged past a parked car on the narrow street and into the pub.

  Inside the diminutive pub was a man playing an accordion. The smell of smoke and beer hit her as if an invisible wall blocked the door. She entered anyways.

  “Phone,” Jill asked the bartender. His handlebar mustache was so long and twisted, you could hang keys on each side of it. He pointed to the back of the pub. Jill rushed her way to the back past the men who stared into their beer glasses, unmindful of what her night had brought her. There between two bathrooms the pay phone hung, covered in grunge. She lifted the receiver then stopped. Who was she going to call? She had no numbers and she had no Euros on her.

  She walked back past the remainder of drunks in the late-night pub to the bartender, and gave the man a look. She imagined she must have looked like a beggar - wet, her spiky hair laid flat on her head.

  “Please, sir. I need you to call the Fairmont Hotel for me. Please.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  12:51 Zulu Time—HAMBURG, GERMANY

  Jill sat in the corner of the pub and watched the door. The smell of cigarettes made her nauseous. She lifted the full ashtray that sat on the red checkerboard tablecloth in front of her and placed it on the table beside her. Despair filled her eyes. She was so deep in thought, she didn’t notice that Leila had walked through the smoke-hazed doorway.

  Tall, dark, and strikingly beautiful, Leila stood dressed in dark green khaki pants, the kind that David would wear. But these pants were clearly built for a willowy, sleek body. The legs of the pants had the usual side pockets similar to Jill’s now soaked fatigues. But Leila’s were tapered down her legs and hugged her calves before trailing into her stiletto black boots. Jill felt rumpled and defeated as she stared at this black beauty. Jill was athletic and regarded herself as no pushover. A beauty most times, she could hold her own. Leila could hold her own too, but somehow she exuded raw beauty. Class.

  Her picturesque stature turned in Jill’s direction. In the dingy light as Jill stood up, Leila abruptly stopped and stared at her. Drenched and shivering now, Jill pushed towards Leila.

  “What happened to you? It's almost three a.m., for God’s sake?” She stopped short of touching Jill on the arm.

  “Let's talk in the car. I need to get out of these clothes. Is the taxi waiting?” Jill's lips quivered.

  In the taxi, as they sped along the dark road, Leila squeezed her hand quickly then let go and said, “We need to get you warm, Jill. I don’t think we should go back to the Fairmont; my hotel is closer.” Leila nudged Jill’s pack that sat on the floor between them with her left boot. “It’s all here.”

  But somehow this did not give Jill comfort. All she could say was, “Yeah.”

  “Marriot,” Leila said to the driver. He nodded, pulled into the right lane, and merged off the main highway. Leila was always abrupt. She was no-nonsense, which annoyed Jill some days, but today she didn’t care.

  At least fifty streetlights whizzed by the windows before anyone spoke. Jill was too busy looking at the driver as he peered back at Leila, a hint of admiration in his glances.
Jill looked past the peering eyes in the rear-view mirror. She was getting colder now and her body had begun to shiver uncontrollably. But even the constant shivers that attempted to keep Jill warm didn’t stop her from watching to ensure they weren’t being followed. I'm being paranoid. It probably wasn't Stan's car that she had seen. After all, why would he need to follow me? There were few headlights on the road at this hour. Jill finally sighed relief and looked over at Leila. “I saw Stan. We were just talking about David and stuff. We got into an argument. He called David impulsive and dumb.” Jill sat miffed. “He asked me if David had been in touch with me or left documents of some kind.”

  “Documents? How could he have left you documents?”

  “The only thing I can think of is his notebook. He did leave that on purpose. It's why I am in Hamburg. But all the pages were ripped out of it.”

  After a few minutes Jill wondered why Leila didn’t say anything. All Jill wanted was to go back in the tunnels. They sat in silence before either one of them noticed that they were leaving the heart of Hamburg.

  They heard it before they saw it. The fierce roar of the engine came up behind them fast, and then without notice high beams flicked on and lit up the inside of the taxi. The glare almost blinded the driver as he looked in the rear-view mirror and the car slightly swerved in reaction to the right.

  Their bodies lurched hard as a large truck hit the left side of the rear of the taxi, spinning it. Exhaustion left Jill and was replaced with adrenaline.

  “Hold on, Leila,” Jill yelled. The taxi spun in circles. Instinct again tapped, as if begging for Jill’s focus, trying to communicate … like an action movie trailer flashing in front of Jill’s eyes.

  One word came out of Jill’s mouth: “PIT.” Jill instantly knew that these pursuers, whoever they were, were not trying to kill them. They were not trying to run them off the road. They were trying to stop them.

  Jill knew the PIT well. During training she had enjoyed the thrill of chasing Tom’s car, pushing him into that fateful spin. Tom was not unlike the driver of this taxi who was attempting to control this spin in the Goddamn wrong direction.

  “Leila, when you can get out, run. Okay, run!” Jill commanded. For a split second she caught the fear in Leila’s eyes. Then the car stopped so fast Jill hit her head on the car door window. The whack dulled her senses for only a moment. And a moment was all they needed. She heard the footsteps, then the shouting. A man yelled something in what seemed to be Russian. Both car doors opened. She saw Leila’s back arch and convulse before Jill felt the Taser rip through her nerves.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The sound of water dripping woke Jill. The smell of wet earth pierced her nose. Groggily she grabbed her head. She opened her eyes, but it was pitch-black. Jill tried to sit up and feel around the floor, but she almost fell over when she attempted to get her bearings. Drugged, was her first thought. The cold cement floor was dry and so were Jill’s clothes. How long she had been in this dark room, she did not know. She felt around the concrete. Something ran over her hand and Jill yelped. “What the…?” It must have been a rodent. God. Where the hell am I?

  Confusion filled Jill. She’d been in a place like this before. Drugged, cold. She thought for a moment that she could smell her own fear. Flashbacks of her time with McGregor shook her. She didn't know how long he'd had her in that cold cave. Being drugged provided her only relief, numbing the pain he inflicted.

  “Leila?” she whispered aloud. Nothing. “Leila?” Again nothing. “Leila, hello, anyone?” Thirty seconds passed before she heard something. Movement. Muffled movement. Then Jill heard a moan. “Leila?”

  Jill waited in silence. Then she heard a scream. It wasn’t far away. But it wasn’t in the same room. The scream sounded more like a surprise scream, like something you would hear in a horror house at an amusement park.

  “Freakin’ rats,” Leila yelled as the click of her stilettos tapped the cement.

  “Leila, where are you?” Jill stood up and immediately bumped into a wall. Feeling around the wall, she discovered that it wasn’t cement. “Leila,” Jill repeated.

  “Jill?” After a series of back and forth callings, they found each other … only the wall separated them.

  “Where are we, Jill? I hate effn’ rats.”

  “I don’t know,” Jill replied. “We need to get out of here fast. There were two men. I think they would have killed us if that was what they wanted, but they’ll be back. We need to get the hell out of here now,” Jill tried to come up with a plan. “I think this wall is just drywall. Stand back; I’ll see if I can kick through it.

  After a series of knocks Jill figured out where the studs were and lifted her leg to do a front-snap kick. Jill raised her right leg, the stronger of the two, and aimed her boot squarely between the studs. Her boot thudded against the wall before her knee snapped back at her. The reverberation was so strong that her knee hit her right boob.

  “Ow, mother—! It’s not drywall. Crap,” Jill spewed as she tried to regain her balance.

  “Jill, can you hear that?”

  Jill stopped and listened. It was clearly the sound of boots hitting hard cement in the distance, smacking in their direction. Then Jill blurted to Leila, “If they come to me first, wait. When you think it’s right timing, make a distraction. Some sort of distraction, anything,” Jill said desperately. And before Leila could answer, the key twisted in Jill’s door. The lock clicked open and Jill could see the silhouettes of two men.

  A light flicked on and it's harshness burned Jill’s unaccustomed eyes. She squinted while holding her hand up to shield herself from the glare. A shorter man stood in front of Jill. He looked as gruesome as the photo she had seen of Petrovich. He had short brown hair, and his tight black turtleneck met his full-face beard, an attempt to cover a large scar. Jill assessed his body language fast. He stood in attack stance and held a Taser in his right hand.

  “Where is he?” His Slavic accent was thick. The big man stood by the door like a bouncer in a dark bar. He was blonde with an American Marine buzz cut. He shifted from one leg to the other. Getting ready for something, Jill thought.

  “Who?” Jill stalled. They know who I am. She profiled as fast as her brain could manage, but it wasn't fast enough. The left hook hit her square in the jaw. Blood splattered from her lip as she fell to the ground.

  Dazed, Jill’s head rung hard. She spat out blood. “You know where he is, you bitch. Think you can get away from us? You know he is here in Germany. Why else would you be here?”

  Before Jill could say anything, she felt the pain of his boot landing directly into her rib. It was her rib that saved her liver, her spleen. Jill cried aloud in pain. The short man grabbed her hair with his left hand and lifted her head up. His breath smelled like rotting teeth. His throat growled again as he pulled up phlegm and said, “Piece of shit American,” then spat in her face. Jill’s head hit the ground and clunked. “You think he can stop us, that stupid piece of shit.” And just as he was about to crack another rib…

  “David! David! Help me, David!” Leila shouted.

  That’s all Jill needed. She was trained in HTH. Hand-to-hand combat is what you do when you don’t have a weapon, when you need to survive. She’d communicate with him alright. She was used to pain after Matthew McGregor.

  Still on the floor, it was the crescent kick—a defensive maneuver where one kicks the left foot in a clockwise swing—that disarmed the short man with the Taser while he had been looking over in Leila’s direction. That landed the Taser beside Jill. She grabbed it fast as the small man lunged towards her. His back arched when Jill zapped his calf. She rolled fast towards the bouncer and jumped up directly in front of him. As slow as he was, all it took was a split second for Jill to front-snap him directly in the groin. He fell to his knees in agonizing pain. Jill winced as she turned her body sideways and thrust her foot into the side of his head.

  Jill screamed as she grabbed her side, the cracked rib remindin
g her of her beating. The men were both down in the tiny room when Jill turned the key and pulled it out of the door. She didn’t look back before she closed the door and locked it. She knew she only bought them about three minutes. But three minutes was all they needed. Tasers could last up to ten minutes, but she didn’t want to assume the best just yet.

  “Leila. Leila.” There was a hint of panic in Jill’s voice.

  “In here,” Leila yelled. Jill scrambled with the keys. The first didn’t fit, but the second one did. She flicked on the light and Leila almost leaped onto Jill.

  “Let’s go.” Jill spat blood and hobbled alongside Leila, her arm holding her side. As they pushed through a steel door, the hallway opened up into what appeared to be a warehouse. Sprawled out on a stainless steel counter were the contents of Jill’s carry-on. The numbers from her pouch were in disarray across the gleaming metal. Leila’s camera was opened and the memory chip was gone.

  They heard yelling and boots on cement. “Shit.” Jill winced as her arm swept the collection of stuff back into the pack. They hit the exit door and ran out into the street.

  The fire exit door slammed behind them and they found themselves on an empty cobbled side street. Tall buildings surrounded them at least six stories high, and it looked like the sun was just starting to set.

  “This way!” Jill yelped as she headed towards the sound of traffic. She could see cars passing fast on the street in front of her.

  “Ouch,” Leila hissed as her ankle twisted and the heel of her left boot cracked off.

  “Come on,” Jill ordered. Although every slap of her boots on the pavement jolted pain into her body, she had to keep going. When they hit the main road they stopped at a taxi that was just letting off its fare. An old woman was counting change when Jill jumped into the backseat. Leila hobbled behind her in a panic, nearly knocking over the woman.

  “Go, go fast,” Jill said frantically. The driver looked back with a questioning lift of his eyebrow and then squealed the tires as they merged into traffic. Both Jill and Leila looked out the back window. No one followed.