Nemesis: A Jordan Quest FBI Thriller

by Gary Winston Brown

  Palomar watched in silence as the death scene unfolded.

  Justice observed his friend. “You okay, Eric?”

  The man nodded, said nothing.

  “I’m sorry. I know how hard this is for you.”

  “I still can’t believe it,” the marina owner said. There was both hostility and astonishment in his voice. “She just walked right up to him and shot him. Then she did it again and again and again, like it was the most natural thing in the world.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s a fucking psychopath.”

  Justice nodded. That and more, he thought to himself.

  To the clackety-clack of the gurney wheels on the gravel path, the two men attending to the body of Robert Bodine slowly made their way to the marina’s main gate. Palomar stopped them, then placed his hand on the body bag and lowered his head. His voice broke as he spoke. “Goodbye, my friend,” he said. “I won’t forget you. I promise.” After he had taken a moment to pay his respects to his late friend, Detective Justice nodded to the men. The two watched as they wheeled the gurney to the waiting van to begin its journey to the Office of the Los Angeles County Medical Examiner-Coroner.

  Palomar turned to Justice. “Have you notified Everest’s wife yet?”

  Justice shook his head. “I’ll visit with her as soon as I’m wrapped up here.”

  “I’d like to go with you.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It won’t be easy, Eric. Not by a long shot. Watching a spouse receive that kind of news rips your heart out. Believe me when I tell you it’s an experience that will stay with you for the rest of your life. Are you sure you can handle it?”

  Palomar nodded thoughtfully. “I know it will be hard, but I have to do it. I don’t have a choice. I owe it to June. I’ve known them both for decades. I need to be there for her now. Besides, it’s what Everest would have wanted me to do.”

  “Okay,” Justice said. “We’ll leave in a few minutes. Before we go, I’d like you to speak with my colleagues. They’re investigating a related matter.”

  “Absolutely,” Palomar said.

  Justice introduced the marina owner to Jordan, Chris, and Colonel Hallier. “If I can be of help to you in any way, please let me know,” Palomar said.

  “As a matter of fact, you can,” Chris said. He pointed to the boom lift. “We need access to that platform. Can you bring it down?”

  “Sure,” Palomar replied. “I keep a spare remote in my office for emergencies, just in case it malfunctions, and someone gets stuck up there. Give me a second. I’ll get it for you.”

  “That would be perfect,” Chris replied.

  31

  ACCORDING TO THE tracking app, Spencer was an hour away from meeting his godfather at Maddy’s last known location. The blue dot had not moved for the past few minutes. His mind whirled with the ramifications of what that might mean. Was she safe? Had she been able to escape whoever had taken her and found a place to hide? Or was the opposite true? When at last he found her, would it be her corpse he discovered? There had been no word from her whatsoever. If she had managed to get away, the first thing she would have done was find a way to contact the police or DARPA. He remembered her talking about the secret safe houses DARPA had instructed her to get to in the event she felt her life was in danger. Was that where she was now? Tucked away in a DARPA facility, protected by armed agents who had denied her the opportunity to call and tell him she was safe on the orders of Colonel Hallier? Even if that were the case, and they refused to allow her to reach out to him until they could effectively identify and deal with the threat, at least she was safe. He was a melting pot of mixed emotions, equal parts anger, frustration, and fear. If only he could hear her voice, just for a second, long enough to know she was all right, then his mind could settle down. Right now, he felt like a shark that needed to stay in motion just to stay alive. He would not stop, could not stop; not until he found Maddy and held her in his arms once more.

  He thought he had spotted the Hummer that had been tailing him earlier on Avalon Boulevard just before he made the turn onto West Lomita. He had taken advantage of the lead he had on the vehicle, punched the gas, and tried to put as much distance between himself and the DARPA agents as possible, if, in fact, that was who they were. This was California after all, and although a percentage of owners had opted to trade in their gas guzzling beasts for all-electric vehicles or more environmentally friendly modes of transportation, not all had. The holdouts still enjoyed their muscle cars. But something about this vehicle telegraphed that its occupants were one hundred percent government-issue.

  Spencer checked his mirror. He watched as the vehicle rounded the corner behind him, then accelerated to close the gap between them.

  It had to be DARPA. He remembered Hallier’s warning. The bastard had tried to order him to give up his search for his wife. But what the colonel had underestimated about him was that when it came to Maddy, there was absolutely nothing he would not do to protect her. The mere thought that someone had taken her was already a knife in his heart. If the occupants of the Hummer were indeed military, he knew on whose orders they were acting. Hallier had sent them to stop him. If that was the case, they were going to need all the luck they could get. He slowed the car long enough to shorten the distance between his pursuers, then waited.

  Ahead, the stoplight changed from green to amber, then red. Spencer stopped at the front of the intersection and checked his mirrors. He spied the distinctive wide body of the Hummer several car lengths behind. If these were DARPA agents following him, he was about to find out.

  At the first break in the busy cross traffic, Spencer gunned the engine. The Range Rover responded. Tires screaming, the vehicle exploded through the intersection, leaving in its wake angry motorists who made their objection known to his careless driving by blasting their horns. Clear of the intersection, Spencer watched and waited. Sure enough, seconds later the Hummer came screaming through in hot pursuit.

  Spencer raced around an eighteen-wheeler as the Hummer closed in on him, then timed his escape. He stayed in front of the rig, waited until the next intersection was in sight, then gunned the engine and took the turn as fast as he could, using the transport as a barrier between them. The Hummer had no choice but to continue through the intersection. Spencer hit the gas and put as much distance between him and the Hummer as possible. He watched in his side mirror as grey smoke engulfed the pursuing vehicle’s tires. The driver had locked up his brakes and brought the vehicle to a rapid stop, but it was already too late. Spencer had evaded the tail once again.

  The rush of adrenaline from the pursuit left him more motivated than ever to find Madelaine. For the second time, he had taken on the agents and won.

  He needed to check his phone, confirm the activity of the microdots. Uncle T and his men were on their way to Maddy. They would need to be updated if there had been any change to her location.

  A self-serve car wash just ahead offered the perfect spot to stop and check the app. Spencer pulled in, found an open bay, backed the Range Rover into the narrow space, removed his phone, opened the app, then waited for the blue microdots to appear on the screen.

  There they were, exactly where he had last seen them. Maddy hadn’t moved from her previous location.

  In less than an hour, she would be with him again. The thought made him breathe a sigh of relief. He may have gained only a slight bit of control over the current situation, but that was fine. He’d take the small win and appreciate it for what it was.

  He put the car in drive, eased out of the car wash bay, then slammed on the brakes.

  The black Hummer was parked at an angle, effectively blocking the car wash exit.

  Agents Tamblyn and Anderson stepped out of the vehicle. The two men drew their weapons, trained them on Spencer.

  “Get out of the car, Mr. Coltraine!” Tamblyn ordered. “Do it now! Keep your hands where I can see them!”

  32 />
  BULLET PEERED AROUND the corner of the Dumpster, checked the laneway for the woman. All clear. She had taken his warning seriously and left the laneway. He looked down at the Irish Wolfhound, German Sheppard, Boxer mix and scratched the dog’s head. “Thanks for having my back, buddy,” he said.

  Eddy wagged his tail, chuffed triumphantly. He walked toward the gate behind them, looked back.

  Bullet smiled. “I get it. Show’s over. Time to go home.”

  The dog chuffed again, then walked into the yard. Bullet followed.

  Crouched in the darkness at the back of the derelict shipping container, Maddy waited. The door creaked open, followed by the sound of the dog padding across the plywood floor. She stood. “Are you two okay?”

  Bullet switched on a battery-operated camping lantern which sat atop an overturned wooden crate just inside the entrance door to the steel container. “Never better.”

  Eddy walked over to a plastic bowl sitting on the floor, pawed at it, flipped it over.

  “You hungry?” Bullet asked.

  The dog pawed the bowl again.

  Bullet snickered. “Guess all that excitement made you work up an appetite, huh?” he said. He lifted the plastic handle on a battered Igloo cold storage container, removed a can of dog food and a can opener, and went about preparing Eddy’s dinner. The dog waited patiently for the contents of the can to be scooped into his bowl and placed on the floor in front of him, then attacked the meal. In seconds, the food was gone.

  “Good?” Bullet asked.

  The dog turned his attention to his water bowl and displayed the same lack of social grace as he had when he’d consumed his food. He lapped up every drop, then flipped the bowl over.

  Bullet righted the bowls, took the dog’s head in his hands. He smiled. “You’re such a pig,” he said lovingly. “You know that, right?”

  Eddy responded to the insult by licking his master’s face.

  “Okay, okay,” Bullet said. “You’re welcome.”

  Maddy moaned.

  Bullet walked over to her. “How’s the leg?”

  “Hurts like crazy.”

  Bullet grabbed a folding lawn chair leaning against the wall, opened it. “Here,” he said. “Take a seat. Let me have a look.”

  Maddy sat in the chair. She winced as the teen pressed on her jeans, inspected the wound.

  “Looks bad,” Bullet said.

  “Is that your medical opinion?”

  “I’ve never seen a bullet wound that didn’t. Your leg is pretty messed up.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Bullet looked up, replied. “Hey, no need to be a smart ass. I’m trying to help.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Who shot you?”

  “The woman who kidnapped me.”

  “Kidnapped you?”

  “What can I say?” Maddy said. “It’s been one hell of a day.”

  Bullet stood. “I’ve got a first aid kit. Well, it’s sort of a first aid kit. Hang on, I’ll get it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Bullet pulled out a metal case from under his makeshift shipping pallet bed, released the latches, flipped it open. “I have four types of painkillers,” he said. “Aspirin, Advil, Jack Daniel’s, and Smirnoff’s. I’m kinda partial to Smirnoff’s but you can take your pick.”

  “Advil will be fine.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Bullet removed the Advil from the case along with the flask-sized bottle of Smirnoff’s vodka and handed them to Maddy. “You kinda look like you could use a shot.”

  “Thanks,” Maddy said. She uncapped the bottle, downed two of the pain pills with a swig of vodka, then handed the bottles back to Bullet.

  “Better?”

  “I will be.”

  From the case, Bullet removed a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide along with a handful of cotton balls and a roll of medical gauze and white tape. “I can disinfect it for you if you like,” he said. “The last thing you need right now is for the wound to get infected. Your leg might fall off.”

  “Fall off, huh? It’s that bad?”

  Bullet nodded. “Could be terminal.” He removed a tongue depressor from the first aid kit. “Here, bite down on this.”

  Maddy shook her head. “It’s okay. I won’t need it.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “It’s gonna sting like a bastard.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

  “Really, Bullet. It’s not like I’ve never cleaned a wound with hydrogen peroxide befo—”

  Bullet pressed the antiseptic soaked cotton balls deep into the wound.

  “Son of a bitch!” Maddy yelled. “That hurts!”

  Bullet patted the wound with several clean cotton balls, wiped away the blood, snickered. “Told ya so.”

  “Your technique leaves a little to be desired.”

  “Sorry about that. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a straight to the point kinda guy.”

  “No kidding.”

  “So what’s your deal, anyway?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “First, you break into my place…”

  “Your place?”

  Bullet disregarded the interruption. “… with a gunshot wound to your leg no less, telling me someone is trying to kill you, asking me to call the cops, then forcing me to deal with some crazy ass lady pointing a gun at me and claiming to be a cop, which by the way I can tell she’s not ‘cause I’ve had more than my fair share of run-ins with those assholes, and telling me she’s after a fugitive, who I assume is you, and that whether I like it or not she’s coming into my home to look for you, which ain’t fucking happening. So yeah, your deal.”

  “I’m not a fugitive,” Maddy said.

  “Isn’t that just what a fugitive would say?” Bullet replied with a smile.

  “This woman,” Maddy asked. “What did she look like?”

  Bullet stopped dousing the wound, looked up. “Did you not just hear what I said? One hundred percent crazy ass.”

  “Describe her.”

  “Hard to say. The laneway’s dark. I couldn’t make her out very well.”

  “Try.”

  Bullet shrugged. “Asian, judging by the accent… late twenties, early thirties maybe. Black pants, leather jacket, pretty good rack. To be honest, I was paying more attention to the gun in her hand than anything else.”

  “It was her.”

  “Your kidnapper?”

  “Yes. Was there a man with her?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  “Dammit.”

  “What?”

  “They must have split up.”

  “There’s two of them after you?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Then we can’t hide out here anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Let’s just say she strikes me as the persistent type. If she has a partner backing her up, like you say she does, she’ll be back again, at which point we’re pretty much screwed.”

  “You have my gun. I checked the clip. It’s loaded.”

  “Yeah, great help that’ll be to us. I can’t shoot for shit. I have an eye disease. Myopia. I can see you ‘cause you’re sitting right in front of me, but anything far away is a complete blur. Docs said it has something to do with the shape of my eyes and how light rays don’t bend properly when they hit my retina. The image focuses in front of my retina rather than on it. It’s a pain in the ass, but there’s nothing I can do about it. What can I say? I got dealt a crappy hand in the eye genetics lottery. Sucks to be me, but whatever. I get by.”

  “Then I’ll be our eyes,” Maddy said. “I’m weapons trained.” She held out her hand. “Can have my gun back now?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Bullet removed the gun from his waistband and handed it back. “Just do me a favor?” he asked.

  Maddy shoved the gun into the small of her back. “Sure. What’s that?�
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  “Don’t shoot yourself in your other leg.”

  Maddy smiled. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  “Try the leg now,” Bullet urged. “Let’s see how mobile you are.”

  “Okay.”

  Bullet helped Maddy to her feet. “Easy does it. Don’t push it. Tell me when you’re ready.”

  Maddy took a deep breath, exhaled. “Ready.”

  Bullet supported her, took her full weight. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  Maddy shifted her weight, put pressure on her wounded leg. She winced as she felt the full contact with the floor. “Holy hell, that hurts.”

  Bullet encouraged her. “I know. One more.”

  With Bullet’s help, Maddy shuffled down the length of the container. Eddy followed at her side.

  “Okay,” Bullet said. “Moment of truth. How badly do you want to stay alive?”

  “Pretty damn bad.”

  “Then make it happen. You’ve got this.”