Rise of the Phoenix: Act 3

by Dameon Gibbs

  The remaining APC was behind the SUV with Ramona in it and as they approached it began swerving back and forth across the lanes. Tucker noticed small box-like objects falling on the road and realized what they were.

  “Mines!” Tucker warned.

  Edge swerved to the left as a mine exploded. The blast shattered Tucker’s rear window as they flew pass. “This is beyond insane! What else could they possibly have?” Tucker yelled.

  A mine tumbled into the path of a police car allowing the driver no time to avoid it. The detonation lifted the rear of the car, flipping it over, dropping it in the path of another, the two then being struck by another, and another. It soon turned into a chain-reaction pile-up reminiscent of a stock-car race.

  “They’re making a statement. They’re not just taking Ramona; they’re showing off.” Edge grumbled as he swerved to avoid the mines. From an aerial view, the SUV and Tucker’s car were making a crisscross pattern across the lanes. “I mean why not kill us?” Edge asked.

  “I’m not following,” Tucker replied.

  “When they kidnapped Ramona, they could have killed you, but they didn’t,” he explained as he made a hard jerk and avoided what seemed to be the last mine. In the review mirror, he watched the mine erupt, knowing that it could have had their names on it.

  “You think they have other plans, don’t you?” Tucker guessed. “But then why are they trying to kill us now?”

  “We’re right in the thick of this mess; kinda of hard to be picky about what car you’re trying to blow up. I’m thinking that the Order is using this kidnapping to set something in motion, something we are not going to like.”

  In the distance, they could see the helicopter maneuvering into position to attack the APC, which had opened up a half-mile lead. Edge continued to push the car to its max, and he was surprised at how fast he was closing the gap. Pumping its breaks the armored vehicle slowed significantly, moving well below the speed limit. The SUV continued passed their comrades, but at a slower pace, as if waiting for the other vehicle to catch back up.

  “Think they’re giving up?” Tucker asked.

  “Not bloody likely,” Edge replied. They watched the helicopter rotate into firing position as it hovered in front of the APC, cautiously moving closer. Suddenly, the top hatch to the vehicle flipped open and, like its twin, another turret gun popped out and immediately fired. Except this time, it was not a machine gun like before. Instead, they were faced with but an MK19 grenade launcher, firing belt-fed 40mm grenades at a rate of sixty per minute. The pilot did their best. And evasive maneuvers were not enough, for the response lag of the turbine engine left him sitting a split second too long, long enough for a grenade to strike halfway between the cabin and the tail rotor.

  With the loss of counterbalance, the helicopter began to spin out of control and plummeted to the ground, nose down. The APC accelerated under the descending aircraft and headed off to rejoin the SUV.

  The rotors blades were the first to strike the ground causing the fuselage to cartwheel along the road. Edge, still closing at well over eighty miles per hour at this point, saw the aircraft going to the right and moved as far as he could to the left side of the road. The fuselage hit the ground and whipped to the left, striking the concrete barrier in the median and bursting into flames, exactly where Edge was heading. He yanked the car hard right but as he passed the fiery remains of the helicopter exploded, sending fire and metal in all directions.

  Edge felt the car drop as both driver’s side tires were blown out, resulting in the car skidding. Just don’t flip, just don’t flip, just don’t flip. The car hurtled sideways along an exit ramp and into the attenuation barrier, barrels of water designed to stop crashing automobiles gradually instead of with a lethal jolt.

  BAM! And then came the sound of water splashing down.

  To Tucker and Edges relief, the barrels worked.

  “Come on!” Tucker yelled as he hit the dashboard. “Go! Go! We have to go after them,” he screamed at Edge, who just shook his head.

  “Car’s done, man. We’re out of the race.”

  “NO!” Tucker screamed as he tried to force open the passenger door that had deformed in the crash. Helplessly, Tucker and Edge watched the SUV carrying Ramona, the last armored vehicle, and the remaining pursuing cops as they headed into the distance.

  “FUCK…..FUCK!” Yelled Tucker, repeatedly, hammering the dashboard with his fist, rage, and frustration in control. Another person he was responsible for…..another person he lost.

  Chapter 6

  Tucker leaned against a small wall outside the hospital an hour after the chase that had led to more than a few renovations of the capital’s streets and sidewalks. Every moment of the chase he replayed endlessly in his mind, especially having to watch Ramona being dragged into the SUV while the barrel of a gun was aimed at his head.

  I should have reacted, Tucker thought. The guy was close enough. I could have grabbed that gun and turned it around, given Edge time to get there or allow Ramona to run. But the more he visualized the moment, the more reality sunk in. Who am I kidding? Edge was right; I’m not trained like him. I’d only have gotten her killed. If she isn’t… He couldn’t finish the thought.

  Beads of sweat formed on his head as another wave of despair washed over him. Another person lost; another person that I couldn’t protect, he thought again, believing that the worst had happened to Ramona. From his dealings with the Order so far, he could not imagine a scenario where she lived.

  After letting the despair run its course, it slowly began to subside, and he started to pace for some fresh air and put himself back on a more even keel. Through the window of the waiting room, he glimpsed a TV showing highlights of the chase from traffic cameras. He squeezed the ice pack he had in his hand until it almost burst. Forget this; I’m going in with Edge.

  Edge was in a private hospital room with two FBI agents and a police officer, reviewing the chase. Tucker had wanted to join, but Edge suggested he take a few minutes to himself. A good idea at the time, considering all Tucker wanted to do was steal a car and chase after the Order. The fact that he had no idea which direction to go only barely deterred him. When they had first arrived at the hospital, he was so spun up that convincing him to at least let the doctors check him out had nearly taken a tranquilizer dart.

  Two Police officers stood flanking the door to Edge’s room to prevent interruptions. As Tucker approached, one of the officers knocked on the door. By the time Tucker got to the door, Edge had opened it allowing him to walk in without saying a word.

  One of the agents was sitting in a chair rubbing his hand over his bald head. The other had his notepad open on the bed, using it as a desk. The officer was sitting in another chair double checking some notes as he talked on the phone. Tucker turned to Edge, irritated that he did not start throwing out information as soon as he entered the room, “So what have we got?”

  “Well, the good news is that the other armored vehicle was taken out.”

  “What about the one with Ramona?” Tucker asked, pissed off that Edge did not mention that one first.

  “It got away,” he said.

  “How does it get ‘away’? We had half of the government agencies after it!”

  The FBI agent in the chair stood up. “About ten miles after your car crashed they started dropping caltrops, those pointed pieces of metal used to flatten tires…”

  “I know what caltrops are,” Tucker interjected, impatiently.

  “Well, they dropped a ton of them, and it essentially took ground pursuit out of the picture. That left only the helicopter units to follow them. The perps jumped off at an exit where the armored car blew right through a police barricade again. Cars were stacked three deep, not that it helped. Within a few minutes they were in an industrial park, and that’s where it all turned to worms.

  “They somehow hacked the police radio frequencies for both ground and air units. Mostly they flat out jammed them and the few messages th
at did get through were disinformation. Half the police in the area were told to go west while they escaped east. I just spoke to my buddy in the other district. Happened to all emergency units in a five-mile radius.”

  “Okay, but the helicopters still had them right?” Tucker continued.

  The FBI agent at the bed spoke. “They pulled into a building in the industrial park; the armored car came out right away and headed west, but not the SUV. A chopper stayed with the location, and a minute later three identical SUV’s emerged going away from the armored car; north, east, and south. With the radios down there was no way to communicate which way they went, even if we knew which of the SUV’s had the kidnapped Agent. Within five minutes they were beyond tracking.”

  “Since they were going east, wouldn’t that have been the one to follow?” Tucker challenged.

  “Doubling back is hardly a new concept,” responded the agent, dryly.

  Tucker looked to Edge. “They took out the armored car right?” Any survivors?” he asked, hoping for someone to press for information.

  “Afraid not. Apparently the armored car’s job was to pull away any cops that followed them to the building, and there were one or two cops. They pursued it to the city where the car met something more stubborn than it: t-boned a garbage truck and caromed off it into a bridge abutment. They didn’t have the benefit of those crash protectors we hit, and when the cops got to the wreck, no one was moving. When they finally got the door open they were all dead, some by the accident and some from their suicide wristbands, like we saw in the Everglades.”

  Tucker turned to the others in the room, “So you’ve no idea where they went?”

  The group just shook their head. One of the agents commented on how well organized this kidnapping was for something that at first seemed spontaneous.

  Tucker looked at Edge. “How did they have time organize this? I mean even if they started planning as soon as we landed, getting assets in place would’ve taken a long time …”

  The agent at the bed interrupted, “What are you talking about? Who’s ‘they’?”

  Edge sighed. “Okay, guys. You’ve been a great help, but we’ll carry it forward from here.”

  The agent tried to assume control of the discussion. “We’ve got jurisdiction here and if you are withholding relevant information that makes you an accessory after the fact!”

  “Sorry boys, your jurisdiction has been superseded. Call General Charles Odier at Fort Meade if you have any questions,” Edge replied.

  The bald agent argued, “If it happens on American soil it’s our jurisdiction, not the militaries! You two start talking, or I'll arrest you on the spot for terrorism."

  Before Edge could calmly reply Tucker jumped into the argument. “Listen here you son-of-a-bitch my friend has been taken hostage, no thanks to you, and instead of letting us do our job, you want to get into a pissing contest over who gets to hear what?”

  Tucker moved towards the agent. Edge put his hand up to stop his partner, but Tucker just blew by it continuing his rant. “Now you two take yourselves back to your cubicles and...” Tucker's fist started to ball up as he took another step closer to the agent, who despite his smaller frame was looking forward to Tucker hitting him; a genuine reason to lock him up.

  Like a vise Edge's hand clamped down on Tucker's bicep stopping him in his tracks. Edge spoke commandingly, “This ain't the place or the time.”

  It stopped Tucker mid-sentence as he realized what he was doing. He'd never lost control like that before and could not believe what he was about to do. He just continued to stare at the agent as he struggled to restore perspective. The two agents stared back, itching for a reason to bring them in.

  Breaking the silence, “I think I’m going to find a donut shop,” said the cop leaving the drama to find his sugary goodness.

  The bald FBI agent went to speak one more time, but Edge just cocked an eyebrow.

  “Come on, we’ll go make that call,” his partner spoke up.

  They picked up their notes and left but not without giving Edge and Tucker the ‘this isn’t overlook.’

  When the last person left the room, Edge released Tucker, who continued to stand in place, breathing heavily in an attempt to calm himself. Edge walked over to the door and locked it, then returned to turn on the TV. As previously every news channel was going on about the highway chase. “Okay, mate. Let’s be clear on this. Who is the only person you’ve contacted since leaving the facility?”

  Tucker remained silent.

  “Come on, Tucker there is only one person it could be. You know he is the one behind this.” Edge pointed to the TV. “Look at what he is willing to do to keep this a secret.”

  Tucker shook his head. “They… they must’ve hacked our call. I mean look at what they did to the police…”

  “They got Arslan!”

  “Wha...What do you mean? How do you know?”

  “Dana called me on a secure line while you were outside. The safe house was compromised, all agents were killed. Arslan is not there. You know the Order wants to finish him off, and there's only one person with the pull to get that location!”

  “I’ll admit that everything you say makes sense, but other explanations make just as much sense, and you’re the only one who wants to see it your way!” Tucker said, frustrated.

  “No, not just me,” said Edge. “I called my old commanding officer about a half hour ago to tell him about the truckload of missiles and to get some NSA assets looking for it, ones outside of Winford’s ability to control or even know of. He mentioned that they had been noticing some things over the past few months, trails of bread crumbs that don’t lead directly to Winford’s door yet but are trending that way. So it’s not just me.”

  Tucker stood silently, not knowing what to think. He wanted Edge to be wrong but even as he came up with other possible explanations he had less and less confidence in them.

  “Come on, Tucker. Just say it. You know it’s true,” Edge encouraged gently. As Tucker attempted one last defense of his role model, his phone rang. Tucker pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen, staring.

  Edge looked at him, “What is it?”

  Tucker turned his phone over to show Edge the screen; it read "Answer Now."

  ۞۞۞۞

  “Tucker,” he answered the phone.

  “Hi, my boy," came the voice of the man he'd heard so often, his role model. “It appears you're holding something I...,” he paused to think of the word, “feel would be better in my hands.” From the tone of his voice, Tucker suddenly knew that the mole could be no one else.

  “Director Winford? What… What is going on?” Tucker asked.

  “Tucker, I am speaking; you just listen. Time is running out for Ms. Xuxa. So first things first, you have a video containing images that could be potentially troublesome to my purposes. I want it. You have twenty-four hours to deliver it to us. Whether Ms. Xuxa continues to draw breath depends on your decision. I don’t want any harm to come to her. She has been such an asset to the agency.”

  “Is Ramona injured? Is she…?”

  “But I digress,” Winford continued, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Now is not the time to get into that in detail. You have twenty-four hours to deliver the package. The drop zone is Locust Point, Pier thirty-two, at twenty-two hundred tomorrow.”

  “Got it,” Tucker replied through clenched teeth.

  “When you arrive someone will direct you to the meeting place. And Tucker, make sure you bring your friend Sergeant Pierce along. I don’t want him to feel left out.”

  Tucker chuckled. “I don’t think he would miss it for the world.”

  “If anyone else shows up to disrupt our meeting they will all die, including our guests Pierce and Xuxa. All will die except you; you will be spared so that you can watch.” With those words, Winford hung up.

  Edge read Tucker’s face. The conflicting emotions were clear as day: anger, confusion, and, most of all, betrayal.
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  The words ‘I told you so’ would not benefit anyone now. Instead, Edge asked, “So what does he want?”

  “The video, you, me and no one else.”

  “Of course. When?”

  “Twenty-two hundred, tomorrow, Pier thirty-two, Locust Point. None of this makes any sense. I don't even know where to begin."

  Edge just smiled. “I’ve got some ideas on where to begin. We're going to need more help, and I know some people who know how to be invisible in these scenarios. And they will be more than eager to help."

  Chapter 7

  Before he could fully turn around to face the dread approaching from behind, Tucker heard Paul screaming. Pedaling his bike as fast as he could, he reached Paul in a matter of seconds.

  A train was coming, and the tracks had switched, pinning Paul’s left foot between the rails. They both worked desperately to free him. The shaking of the earth intensified; the locomotive was now less than forty feet away, horn blaring a deafening warning as if the sound could help them do anything.

  Tucker looked at Paul’s face, tears falling, helplessly unsure of what to do. And although Paul’s mouth moved Tucker could not hear his words; he only knew that they were words of pleading. With the locomotive about to strike them both, Paul pushed Tucker off the track, sending him tumbling down the embankment just as the locomotive swept him away.

  In shock, young Tucker sat in the dirt, motionless, watching each of the long string of containers stream by only feet in front of him, the breeze of their passage cooling his dark, damp skin. Tucker vaguely heard the locomotive wheels screech in the distance, and he sat in a stunned fog, unable to comprehend …..

  ۞۞۞۞

  Tucker slowly awakened. He had driven with Edge to a large self-storage unit just outside of Baltimore City to meet the rest of Edge’s team. While they waited, Tucker sat down on a folding chair in the corner and the pace of the past few days finally caught up with him. He fell asleep instantly in a limp heap that looked physically impossible.