by R J Johnson
The agent politely nodded, “May I have your ID’s please?”
Christina and Emily withdrew their new IDs provided to them fresh from the printer. Each of them kept their first name. Christina Ip became Chrissy Yamamoto, and Emily Harper was now Emily Olsen. The agent didn’t give their ID’s a second glance as she quickly inputted their information looking up their tickets.
Emily drew in a breath, anticipating that at any second security would suddenly surround them and take them into custody for their role in the San Ellijo attack. She glanced around, thinking that every TSA agent’s gaze was on her and Christina.
She flashed back on Collier and Kline fighting in the San Ellijo control room. She squeezed her eyes shut as the image of her fiancé being cut in half by the pipe flashed in front of her eyes. All Emily could think about was Max’s eyes and how the flame red tint she saw in them had faded while he’d died in her arms.
The slamming of the agent’s stapler brought her back to the present.
“Your flight is departing in a half hour, so you’ll want to get through security as quick as you can,” the agent warned. “You’re not checking any bags, so it should be easy enough. Have fun this weekend!”
Christina took the offered tickets from the gate agent, smiling. “Drunken girl time is guaranteed fun.”
The agent chuckled, “I’m jealous. Hawaii in June. Doesn’t get any better than that.”
Emily exhaled sharply, Collier’s bloody face still flashing in front of her eyes. She took the ticket from Christina and started walking down the terminal.
Christina nodded her head to the ticket agent, “Sorry for my friend… she’s uhh… not a great flyer.”
The agent nodded. At least this customer hadn’t doused her with a lukewarm Starbucks.
Christina caught up to Emily, “Hey! You’ve got to be careful…”
Emily wrenched her arm away from her best friend. “What are you talking about?”
Christina stepped in front of Emily and grabbed her by the arms, “Look,” Christina said, her black hair dancing around her angular face, “I get that you’re in a bad way right now, but, if we have any hope to keep people from suspecting anything, we need to stay cool.”
Emily knew her friend was right, but Christina had no idea the kind of internal storm of emotions that was currently raging within her. A dozen thoughts were running through her head all at once. Every single one attempting to rationalize her fiancé’s action, or worse, ways she might have stopped him. Perhaps there was something she could have said at their place in Oceanside.
She was about to start lecturing her friend when she heard a commotion at the other end of the airport terminal.
Dozens of police officers began streaming out of a door leading from the rear of the building. Five police cars drew up to the curbside, their bubble lights flashing.
“What’s going on?” Christina wondered out loud. Emily felt a pit open up in the bottom of her stomach.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed CNN playing an image of the San Diego airport. She squinted to try and make out the crawl. Then the image on the screen switched and she didn’t need binoculars.
“Oh my God Chris…” Emily gasped, pointing to the screen. “Look!”
On it was a photo of Alex. It was the standard dress blues photo most new recruits took after joining up. Under it the crawl announced that he was the one responsible for the attack on Downtown San Diego and San Ellijo.
Christina looked up and instantly understood what this report meant. Kline and his cronies had planted the story as to make Alex’s life difficult.
“We have to go back!” Emily cried out.
Christina shook her head, “No, it’s too late. They’ll have us on camera getting out of the cab with him. They’ll know we’re with him unless we get on that flight now.”
Emily tried to pull away from Christina, but her grip was too strong.
“Let go of me!” she screamed. “We have to help him!”
“No we don’t,” Christina said in a low voice. She pulled her friend back, making her look in her eyes. “Whatever happens next, you can only help Alex if you’re not in jail. We gotta get on that flight and find out where the hell those stones came from.”
She pulled her friend toward the security line, “Alex can take care of himself. He’s been doing it just fine over the last few years playing superspy. Have some trust in him now.”
Emily resisted at first, but as she watched another contingent of police exit the building she was struck by how hopeless her contribution would be at this point. What could she possibly do against the combined might of the SDPD? She didn’t even hold one of Alex’s execrable stones.
Christina continued pulling her reluctant friend toward the security screening. Once there, she handed her ticket to the TSA agent who gave it and her ID a cursory examination. Christina sighed, just a few hundred feet more and they’d be on a plane for Hawaii and far away from any crazed billionaires who might want to do them harm.
And then maybe they’d finally be able to get some answers on what the hell was going on.
Chapter Sixteen
Unfortunately, Alex had no idea a large target was currently painted on his back. The cabbie who’d been driving them around all morning, honked his horn and screamed out a window at a confused tourist. The man and his family had inadvertently jaywalked across the street in front of the steady stream of cars flowing through the airport loop.
Alex withdrew the smartphone he’d bought the other day and checked the latest news headlines out of habit. He was hoping to see what they’d uncovered about Collier’s expedition to Peru, but when the page finally loaded, he drew in a sharp breath when he saw the breaking news headlines.
His photo was everywhere. Underneath was the caption that read: Suspected Terrorist Mastermind Spotted in San Diego.
Alex cursed softly and quickly scanned the story. Apparently the authorities had come up with convincing evidence that he was the man who set Collier loose on San Diego. Partnered with the story, was a manifesto Alex had supposedly written which called for anarchy and the dissolution of the United States.
He grumbled and shook his head. It was classic psy-ops. They were painting him as the mastermind, hoping to place him on every wanted list in the world.
Alex breathed deep and considered the options. Who had exposed him? Instantly, his thoughts flew to Ash. He must have somehow discovered he was alive and had put the story out in an attempt to flush him out.
But the longer he considered that idea, the less he liked the notion. Ash wouldn’t give some random police officer the chance of killing him. He’d reserve that privilege for himself. Besides, Ash had too much at stake. He needed to keep their heist of $6.6 billion dollars from taxpayers secret. The last thing he’d want is Alex’s face plastered all over the news.
This had to be Kline’s doing. Which meant this was a bad start on his search for Scott. Whoever was setting him up was trying to make it difficult for him to get around. This story would make it impossible for him to take any flight out of town or cross any borders.
And that was exactly why they’d put it out there.
Alex swallowed and made his decision. Whether the world was ready to know about the stones or not, he didn’t have a choice. He checked the smartphone app that was keeping track of Emily’s flight. They were still boarding. He needed to make sure that plane took off.
Police lights lit up the rear of his cab and Alex glanced back behind the rear window, seeing a convoy of police stampeding toward his cab.
Making his decision, Alex reached for the door handle when he heard the locks click shut. The cabbie bailed out of the car and began running for his life. The cab driver must have recognized his photo and called in the cavalry.
Alex pounded on the window, shouting in frustration. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to get to Scott and get his stone back.
One cop approached his door, a shotgun poi
nted at him through the dirty cab windows. Alex sighed. He didn’t want to do this, but he didn’t see as if he had much choice.
He clutched the Fire stone in his left hand and looked around desperately for a way out that didn’t include him bar-be-quing the SDPD. They’d already taken heavy losses during their confrontation with Collier, he didn’t want to add to their misery. Not when there was another way.
Alex grasped the door handle firmly, closed his eyes and concentrated briefly. Nothing too violent. It wasn’t this guy’s fault he was on the run.
The police officer gingerly stepped forward and held out a hand for the door handle touching it. He leapt back in surprise as the heat burned through his protective glove.
The rest of the police squad backing him up didn’t wait. They immediately began firing their weapons into the cab. They weren’t taking any chances, not after the day they’d had.
Bullet after bullet ricocheted throughout the cab, the copper jacketed rounds shredding the cheap metal frame of the yellow cab. Alex held his head and ducked, feeling round after round rip through various parts of his body. His healing stone immediately took care of those injuries, but it still wasn’t pleasant getting shot.
After a few minutes, the firing tapered off. The commander held up a hand and waved his men forward, telling them to cautiously approach the terrorist. One of the captain’s best friends had been killed during Collier’s attack on the Federal Reserve and was hoping to arrest the mastermind personally.
Alex poked his head up and saw the officers begin to swarm toward his cab. He pushed his way over the top of the front seats, awkwardly landing in the driver’s seat. Rearranging himself, he moved to put the cab in gear, pushing the accelerator to the floor. The cab stumbled forward, pushing through the crowd of officers, the tires squealing and protesting their treatment.
The SWAT team leapt back out of the way. They aimed their rifles at the cab and pulled the triggers. This time, nothing happened. It was a frustrating repeat of what happened at the Federal Reserve. They were forced to stand and watch as Alex’s cab tore through the driveway and through the traffic, hitting several cars.
Pumping his fist, Alex briefly celebrated getting away when he saw a line of police cars blocking the airport exit.
Putting aside his disappointment, he pulled the wheel to the left, spinning around. He pushed the accelerator to the ground and began driving against traffic and back toward the airport.
Having been taken off guard by Alex once already, the SWAT team was not about to let him get away. They aimed their weapons and Alex waved his hand, using the fire stone to keep the primer in the bullet from igniting.
Their guns useless, the SWAT members dropped their MP5s, letting their weapons hang from a leash under their arm. They reached back, pulling a second weapon out that was slung against their backs. Alex looked in confused at the weapon they were holding. He rose his hand, hoping to use the Fire stone to keep it from activating.
Bolts of light flashed from the barrels of their rifles. Hot flashes of energy began sparking all around the interior of the cab. One of the bolts caught his left arm, and it instantly went numb. His Healing stone flashed brilliantly, but Alex couldn’t feel anything. It was as if he was missing a limb. He cried out in pain and shock, pulling the wheel to the right, hoping to avoid another volley by the dangerous weapons.
He hadn’t expected SWAT teams to have PHaSeRs. The Phased Heating and Stimulation Response rifles were new, but incredibly effective. If they caught Alex, the PHaSeR would overload his nervous system and cause him to collapse in a series of epileptic seizures. His arm was beginning to tingle, as if it had been asleep for hours, and that had only been a glancing blow.
He jerked the wheel and nearly lost control of the cab. Up on two wheels, his stolen vehicle protested at his treatment of it as he urged it to go faster. He hadn’t seen the PHaSeRs in action before and had no intentions of sticking around to learn more.
Alex’s smartphone beeped and he sighed in relief. He’d set an alert for when Emily’s plane had taken off so he’d know that she was safe.
That meant he was now free to do whatever he needed in order to get away.
Making his decision, Alex steered the cab directly for a fence that separated the airport from the runway. Concentrating briefly, Alex sent a wall of flame toward the fence, melting a sizable hole for his cab to get through.
Crashing through, Alex gunned the cab’s engine. He wished he had something with a little more power, but this would have to do.
Gotta get away, Alex thought to himself. But how?
He turned the corner around a warehouse heading for the runway when he saw the wall of red and blue lights heading for his cab. Along with the police already pursuing him, Alex was running out of room. He needed to get out in the open and quick.
A jumbo 747 was beginning to slowly taxi down the runway and that’s when he saw his chance.
Steering toward the runway, Alex jerked the wheel to and fro trying to dodge the very potent energy blasts sparking all around him.
Another SWAT vehicle burst through the fence he’d broken through, continuing to chase after him. On it was a large radar looking instrument and Alex instantly recognized it for what it was. They’d used something similar in Afghanistan when he was working with Ash and his boys. It was a portable microwave transmitter and was capable of directing a beam of such high intensity, it would make it feel as if your skin was on fire. The Active Denial System was incredibly effective at controlling crowds and taking the fight out of people, and as such, Alex had a high respect for it.
They’re breaking out the big guns for me… At any other time, Alex might have been impressed, but he had no desire to get caught. Not when he had so much left to do.
The SWAT vehicle pulled up behind him and aimed the ADS at his cab. Instantly, Alex felt as if his skin had suddenly caught on fire. He screamed and nearly lost control of the cab. He cursed and jerked the wheel, hoping to escape the ADS’s range. At ninety miles an hour, he didn’t have much room for error.
He gunned the engine to take him to the end of the runway. Turning, he accelerated down the runway, heading straight for the 747 that was about to take off.
Alex felt the ADS turn back on and catch him with a portion of its heat ray. He cried out in pain as his skin instantly boiled to over 130 degrees. His healing stone flashed, struggling to keep up with the damage, but, while he remained injury free, the death ray from the SWAT vehicle was putting him in incredible pain.
Grimacing, he bit his lip and tasted blood, hoping it would distract him as he urged the cab to go faster down the runway. The jumbo jet was not slowing down and Alex needed to make a decision. They were either unwilling to move or unable to see him coming. He knew this would be his only chance to escape. He’d need to time this perfectly if he was going to pull it off.
Setting the cruise control, Alex grabbed a bungee cord left behind by the cab’s original owner and tied it to the wheel. It wouldn’t keep the cab driving straight for long, but he didn’t need it to.
The jumbo jet was rolling faster down the runway and looked as if it finally had enough speed to take off. Alex knew this was his only chance.
Making one last minute adjustment to his trajectory and satisfied the cab would drive as straight as he could get it to, Alex climbed out the window and crouched low on the top of the cab. Timing it perfectly, he leapt onto the 747’s wheel just as he passed it.
At the same time, one of the SWAT members took a shot with his PHaSeR rifle. The bolt of energy caught Alex on his left shoulder this time, and he cried out in pain as the entire right side of his body went numb. His grip on the pylon slipped, and he nearly fell, grabbing hold at the last second with his other hand.
The 747 flared and he watched as the ground rapidly shrink away. His cab continued moving straight for a few hundred feet more before the wheel came loose as it nearly crashed into the oncoming SWAT vehicle that had been pursuing him.
For their part, the SWAT team wasn’t going to let Alex get away that easily. They adjusted the course of the ADS beam, catching Alex once again as the jet carried him into the air above downtown San Diego.
He screamed out in pain and lost hold of the wheel well of the jumbo jet. The jet had gained quite a bit of altitude already due to its emergency take-off procedure. Alex glanced down at the ground which was several thousand feet below him as he barely held on to the wheel well with his burning right hand. Whatever that beam did to his skin, his stone was having trouble healing it.
It was then that he heard a sharp clunk and the airplane pitch to the right. They were making their return to the airport. The acceleration of the sudden turn was too fast for him and it nearly wrenched his shoulder out of his socket.
Forced to release his grip on the wire holding onto him, he floated off into the blue sky without a parachute, unsure if his healing stone would protect him from the very sudden stop he knew awaited him.
He took a breath, closed his eyes and hoped for a miracle.
Chapter Seventeen
The Old Man watched the ducks fight with each other over the tiny pieces of bread he was spreading out before them. The duck pond was busy this time of day as dozens of business men and women ate their lunch, walked their dogs, or just enjoyed the sunny Southern California afternoon.
“No, no…” he gently scolded a black and white mallard who was aggressively trying to steal the bread. “Gotta let everyone have some. No need to hog it. There’s plenty for all…”
He gently pushed the mallard back with the inside of his foot, hoping to make room for the other hungry ducks to get their share of the stale bread crumbs.
