Wanted

by Ho, Jo

  Da Hong Pao is a rock tea grown in the Wuyi Mountains of China. A heavily oxidized oolong tea, according to legend, the mother of a Ming dynasty emperor was cured of an illness by it. Only six of the bushes where the tea originated were thought to remain. Ridiculously expensive, the tea cost more than gold and could sell for up to US$1,025,000 per kilogram.

  Forbes had developed a taste for it after a business visit to China. The tea — traditionally only given to honored guests — had been used as a symbol to seal the deal. Picking up the cup, Forbes took a sip, letting the warm liquid slide down his throat. His assistant left quietly. She knew the drill, knew he didn’t like anyone to hover, particularly during this daily, sacred tea time.

  The telephone rang, cutting into his moment of calm. Forbes reached over and pressed the answer button. “Yes?”

  The voice that came on the line wasn’t one he recognized. “Sir, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Forbes closed his eyes, already predicting what the caller would say next. “The dog escaped.”

  “Yes sir.”

  It took every ounce of willpower not to scream at the caller. He was lucky his head was pounding so much.

  “Um, sir? There’s something else. Hector’s dead. They killed him.”

  A tidal wave of fury coursed through him. Unable to restrain himself any further, Forbes hurled the cup of tea against the wall, where it smashed to smithereens. His head threatened to explode from the sound, but he was beyond caring now. He shot up to his feet, grabbed the teapot and flung that too. Next came the computer, then the phone, whose cable he ripped out of the socket. All went flying against the wall.

  The door opened a crack. His assistant, hearing the commotion, was back again to check up on him. Seeing his rage, she waited. Forbes searched for more items to destroy, but there was nothing. His desk was minimally decorated, as he abhorred clutter. Suddenly deflated, he sank back into his chair. Immediately, his assistant entered, a dustpan and brush in her hands as she went to work cleaning up the mess he had made.

  Within minutes, a new phone was installed, and a new computer on his desk. His people knew the drill.

  “I’ll bring you more tea, sir,” his assistant said.

  Forbes didn’t reply.

  CHAPTER 112

  SULLY

  With that one bullet, the man who had destroyed my home and cherished memories of Emma was dead.

  I had thought that killing him would magically make me feel better. Instead, the hollowness inside stubbornly refused to fill. It seemed nothing would heal me but time.

  As the initial madness subsided, I froze, a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Chase! She’s gone!”

  Zeb, who had been tending to my wound by tying a tourniquet around it, looked up. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”

  I took a deep breath. “She said she was sorry for everything, but she would fix this.” I shook my head, barely able to comprehend my words.

  “But how could they have gone?”

  From my position, I had a clear view of the grounds. I could clearly see the vehicles belonging to the ranch and my own recently purchased truck. They were all accounted for. It was as I turned to stare at Military Man’s downed body that the answer came to me.

  “The helicopter. She must have hijacked the helicopter!”

  “She did what?!” came Gideon’s shocked question as he returned to the room.

  I could punch myself for my stupidity. “He said Bandit needed meds or he’d die. Oh God.”

  Gideon couldn’t take it in. “She wouldn’t risk her life on a foolish thought like that.”

  I whirled on him, heart in my throat. “She wouldn’t? You’ve known her two days! That dog was the only friend, the only family she has. Sure, she talks tough, but Chase is just a girl who has grown up without anyone caring for her. Do you know what that does to a person? Bandit is the only one who has shown her any love, so yeah, she would do exactly something as foolish as this.”

  Silence fell on the room, my outburst causing us all to take stock. Surprising us all, Zeb spoke.

  “Then we’ll go after her.”

  Of all the things I had expected my father to say, that wasn’t it. I shook my head, but when I spoke again, there was a gruffness in my voice.

  “We can’t.”

  I didn’t elaborate. Zeb opened his mouth, preparing to argue, but Gideon jumped in to finish what I hadn’t been able to. “Your wheelchair, Zeb. You would only slow him down.”

  Zeb didn’t like it, but he knew the truth when it was smacking him in the face. Another unwanted truth surfaced however. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you can’t go after her either, Jake. Not with your leg like that. You can barely walk.”

  My mouth fell open in shock. My concern for Chase and Bandit were so great, I hadn’t even considered my own injury.

  It was Gideon who finally came up with a solution. “He can if I go with him. Zeb, you’ll be OK on your own?”

  Zeb nodded, even as I started to protest. He held up his hand, stopping any further objection from me. “Gid already called the cavalry and they’re on their way. There’s no more danger for me here, so the two of you can keep wasting time, or you can go after that girl and bring them home.”

  And with that simple truth, our minds were made up. There was just one problem.

  “Well, we know they’ve gone to… what was that name again?” I racked my brain, trying to think through the pain. What had she said yesterday? I pictured Chase flying into the room, waving her computer printout. Finally, it came to me.

  “Platinum Industries! That was it, that’s what she said!”

  My euphoria was quickly dashed as Gideon looked at me, frowning.

  “But where the hell is it?”

  CHAPTER 113

  SULLY

  While Gideon did his best to help, I — under my own father’s insistence — was currently in the office, hoping to find a trace of Chase’s whereabouts. I knew where she had gone — the lab Bandit escaped from — but nothing about its actual whereabouts. Scratching at the day’s growth on my chin, I perched onto the edge of the chair in front of the computer. Moving the mouse, the screen blinked on. Pulling up the search bar history, I moved through it quickly, hoping to find some information here.

  I got more than he bargained for.

  The last search was the Wiki entry for one Sebastien Forbes. I scanned through the billionaire’s biography, hoping for something to leap out at me. The man was richer than God — and had an ego to match — judging by the way he bought and sold companies on a whim.

  Going backwards through the results, I read through Chase’s previous search on Platinum Industries. There wasn’t much information on the business, just a building listed out in Rochester, which, if memory serves, was East of Niagara Falls. I could find nothing on what “industry” the company dabbled in.

  So far, so nothing.

  It wasn’t until I got to Chase’s email — and thank God she was still logged in — that everything fell into place.

  And Chase was rushing into the Lion’s den armed with only a sick dog and a gun.

  CHAPTER 114

  SULLY

  Time was of the essence.

  Every second they wasted, the likelihood of saving both Chase and Bandit grew sparser. Those men hadn’t hesitated to shoot. Once Bandit set foot on their premises, Chase’s usefulness — and her life — were as good as gone. I tried not to let that terrifying thought debilitate me.

  It was Gideon who came up with the idea.

  The kid seemed to have gotten over his initial hatred of me, and for that, I was grateful. The last thing I needed was an angry teenager riding shotgun. We set up Zeb in the living room so he could see down the hill. If there was any sign of trouble, more unwanted visitors, he would notice them right away. I left him with food, water, and the phone within arm’s reach.

  Despite our history, I hesitated to leave. So much was left unsaid between us.
So many years of resentment. As if he knew what I was thinking, Zeb laid a rough hand on my arm and uttered one simple word. “Go.”

  I nodded gruffly and turned to Gideon. “You have everything?”

  He handed me a rucksack. Inside were the remnants of any ammo we could salvage. The shotguns were out completely, so there was no point in taking them. All we had was Gideon’s trusty revolver, a swiss army knife Zeb once found at an antique fair, and a few thousand bucks that Zeb had stashed in the safe for a rainy day. In the cold light of day, our arsenal didn’t look like much, and we both knew it.

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a wine cellar there,” Gideon grinned suddenly. “I brought a lighter, just in case.”

  My opinion of the kid rose up a notch after that. Despite the life or death situation we hand on our hands, here was this kid quipping like he was from a Marvel movie. Gideon moved over to Zeb. “The Sheriff said they’d be here in less than ten minutes. It’s been eight already.”

  Zeb nodded. “I’ll be fine. I was just thinking life had been a little dull lately. This excitement came in the nick of time.”

  With a nod, I turned away from my father, forcing down the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. I was surprised to feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Not since Emma was diagnosed with terminal cancer had I felt this level of fear. Not only for Chase and Bandit, but as I realized now, for my father too.

  “Don’t die,” I said to him.

  Zeb snorted. “It’ll take more than bullets to dispense of me.”

  Despite the gravity of the situation, a small smile broke out over my face as Gideon slid himself under my arm, taking the weight off of my injured leg. Together, we hurried from the ranch.

  CHAPTER 115

  SULLY

  Moments later however, we hadn’t gone anywhere.

  We stood, staring in shock at the sight before us. My truck, while it had been some time since it had come off the line, was now riddled with bullets. Oil spilled out from a gaping hole in the gas tank. I looked at Gideon. “What about the 4x4?”

  Gideon was already moving, running to the side of the ranch.

  “Well, damn,” were the only words he uttered when he saw Zeb’s car. All four wheels were punctured, and the hood propped up. He went to look under it when I stopped him. “Don’t bother. They made sure we wouldn’t be going anywhere.”

  “Well what’re we going to do? It’s not like there are any taxis around here.” Gideon said. I thought for a moment, lost, then looked towards the stables. Following my gaze, Gideon shook his head incredulously.

  “Are you crazy? Those horses haven’t been ridden in years? How do you know they still work?”

  I stared at him evenly. “Horses don’t lose the ability to run unless they’re injured, and that bunch have had years to recover. Come on, help me there.”

  Moments later, we were each perched on top of a horse. I stroked Derby, my mount. She trotted friskily, seemingly excited by being taken out. I studied Gideon’s ride critically; his horse was less eager for the exercise ahead but was otherwise fine. The short journey wouldn’t do any damage to the two of them. Having ridden since I was a kid, I felt entirely comfortable up there, though I could see the same couldn’t be said of Gideon, whose horse pranced nervously, feeling the boy’s tension. “He can feel your uncertainty. You need to take control.”

  “Well it’s a little hard to fake that when the thing weighs nine thousand pounds more than me,” Gideon complained, tugging on the reins.

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t know that,” I replied. “Use your legs.”

  With that, I kicked at my horse with my good leg and took off, galloping across the field, a trail of dust in my wake. Determined not to be left behind, Gideon yelled “Gideeup,” like he’d seen in the Westerns. His horse, Spirit, shot after me, leaving Gideon holding onto the reins for dear life.

  CHAPTER 116

  SULLY

  After we’d left the ranch, we rode some eight miles over several fields of corn, with Gideon calling out directions as we went. I was relieved that the area around here was flat, and from my position on the horse, I could see for miles. Several times, I glanced behind me to see if Gideon was keeping up, and he was, though his riding skills could do with some finesse. If these weren’t such desperate times, and if my leg didn’t have a bullet-sized hole in it, I would be enjoying this ride. I’d forgotten how great it could feel to be on top of a horse, wind whipping against a man’s face.

  Within some ten or so miles, the fields turned into a gravel drive. “Take the turn here,” Gideon instructed.

  I swung my horse around as a runway appeared before us. Situated at the end of it was an airplane with the slogan “I love a good crop dusting” sprayed onto its side. The plane was rusty and small, and made me — not the greatest flyer in the first place — feel sick to my stomach.

  “That’s the plane? That rustbucket? Does it even fly?” I asked, an incredulous look on my face. Gideon seemed amused by my question. Probably payback for me dismissing the boy’s horse-riding fear earlier, but I was saved from answering, as a bald man covered in grease stains approached, eyes bulging out at the sight of us.

  “Someone shooting a Western I don’t know about?” the man asked. I climbed awkwardly off Derby, my leg hampering progress, and landed on my feet much harder than I expected. Pain shot up my leg, leaving me momentarily breathless.

  “We suffered some transportation hiccups,” came my only explanation.

  The man studied my wound, where the blood was already seeping through the makeshift bandage. “What happened to your leg?” he asked.

  I replied instantly. “Caught it on a sharp edge.”

  The man waited for more of an explanation, but I stayed silent until he finally took the hint and turned to Gideon, nodding at him. “Gideon. How’s Zeb?”

  Without missing a beat, Gideon responded. “Fine, Frank. He’s staying home today. We have need of your services however.”

  “Yeah, you want I should spray the lawn again? I keep telling you to chop some of those trees down, they’re drowning the property in shadow.” Frank said.

  I stepped forward. “The lawn’s fine. We need a ride.”

  Frank looked more interested in the conversation suddenly. He must’ve seen dollar signs in his near future. “Where to?”

  I showed him a map, where I’d circled our destination. Frank covered his eyes, shielding them from the sun, and looked down at his marker. “Rochester. That’s some two, three hours flight from here.”

  I gestured at the plane. “Can it make it?”

  Frank’s face twisted into annoyance that he didn’t bother to hide. “Of course it can. But I can’t do it for a day or two. Mrs. Deloris wants me to spray her cornfields. Been having a problem with pests lately so I told her—”

  I held up my hand, interrupting. “It has to be now.”

  Frank stared at me bug-eyed. “But, Mrs. Deloris…” He never finished saying what Mrs Deloris wanted however, as I took a wad of bills out of my bag.

  “Well… that’s some nice change you got there, not enough for me to drop a regular client however,” said Frank, hedging his bets.

  “I’ll throw in some horses. Thoroughbreds,” I replied.

  Frank looked over my shoulders, at Derby and Spirit, and frowned. “That gray one doesn’t look like there’s much life in her.”

  “She’s not for sale, but you can have your pick from Zeb’s stables,” I countered.

  Frank studied me with a calculating eye. “And why would Zeb agree to that?”

  I stared right on back. “Because he’s my dad.” Behind him, Gideon nodded confirmation.

  A smile broke out over Frank’s face. “Well, why don’t you hop on in and we’ll be on our way.”

  With that, Frank hurried to the plane, seemingly having forgotten Mrs. Deloris altogether.

  CHAPTER 117

  CHASE

  Just as I was beginning to doubt whether our
pilot was actually taking me to Platinum Industries and not the ends of the Earth (it felt like we’d been in the helicopter some three weeks already), a building appeared, nestled amongst the green.

  It wasn’t a tall building, just two stories high, but what it lacked in height it made up for in length. The place must’ve been two city blocks wide. A modern (read: ugly) structure, blending steel and brick, the first thing I noticed was all those high-up windows we’d seen in satellite view earlier. Can you say suspicious? The pilot nudged the joystick (at least that’s what it looked like), and the aircraft responded by tilting forward as we started our descent, but I tapped him on the shoulder with the gun.

  “No. Don’t land here,” I said. I pointed to a field close by, where a cluster of overgrown trees and bushes lived. “There.”

  He didn’t respond but shifted the controls accordingly. A few moments later, we landed neatly behind the trees, where I was hoping the helicopter would be shielded from sight. The pilot killed the engine. The sudden silence hung heavy in the air.

  “We’re here. What now?” he asked, challenging me with a glare. I got the distinct feeling he didn’t like being bossed around by a kid. Well tough.

  “Get out, slowly,” I said. I paid attention to his body language, bracing myself should he suddenly decide to do something stupid like run away. He climbed out, and I followed behind, close enough to do damage but not close enough for him to take me down if he choose to go that route. Then I walked around to face him.