The Porter Complication (Cari Porter Series Book 1)

by Mike Ryan

  It was now around three o’clock in the afternoon and Porter had been knocked out for a good four or five hours. She didn’t snap out of her slumber until the car door opened and a man reached down for the blanket, finding an unpleasant surprise in his vehicle. Instantly seeing the blood on her shirt and a gun on the floor, the man immediately worried for his own safety, more than the injured woman on the floor. Porter looked up at the man, the light of the sun shining into her face. Though she recognized right away that the man wasn’t either of the ones that had initially been chasing her, she didn’t know if he was part of a new team brought in. As Porter grabbed her gun, the man put his hands in the air.

  “I don’t have much money. I’ll give you what I have, though. I won’t resist. You can have it.”

  Porter wearily propped herself up on the back seat, putting one of her knees on it for support. Her head spun all around as she looked for signs of the men she knew were after her—or any other sign of trouble, for that matter. Since she didn’t see anyone else in the vicinity, her attention finally focused on the middle-aged man in front of her. He was staying perfectly still as he waited for her to tell him what she wanted, being careful to not making any sudden moves that she might construe as a threat against her. Porter recognized them as the signs of a man who wanted no trouble. She had no reason to feel threatened by him.

  Porter got out of the car and stood just in front of the man. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. He was going bald on top but still had some on the sides and back, although it was so short, it looked like it’d been shaved recently. His face was scruffy, looking like he hadn’t shaved in a week or so, small patches of white showing around his chin. Judging by his clothes, the man was a worker or laborer. They were well worn and slightly dirty.

  Knowing she’d eventually have to put her trust in someone, he looked as good of a person as any to try her faith on. Porter put her gun away so the man could relax a little. It didn’t really work, though, as the man still seemed concerned about her intentions. Just because she put the gun away didn’t mean she didn’t have something nefarious in mind.

  “I don’t want your money. You can put your hands down.”

  The man did as he was instructed and lowered his arms, putting them down by his sides. “What else is there?” His eyes then went toward his car, figuring that must have been it. “My car? It is old, but still runs well. The keys are in my pocket if you want it.”

  Porter shook her head. “I don’t want your car either.”

  “I’m afraid I have nothing else to offer.”

  “All I want is your help.”

  “My help? With what?”

  Porter tried moving her shoulder around, but winced in pain, and put her hand on the front of it. The man could tell she was in obvious discomfort, though he wasn’t exactly sympathetic to her plight. At least not until he knew what she had in mind. Porter thought about asking for the nearest hospital, but she knew that probably wasn’t the best idea. Whoever was after her seemed to know where she was or where she was going, so once they learned she’d been shot, they seemed likely to start canvassing hospitals in the area.

  “Do you happen to know any… uh… doctors in the area?” Porter asked.

  “The nearest hospital is not too far.”

  “No, not a hospital. I just need someone to patch me up real quick so I can be on my way.”

  “I’m afraid I do not know such a person.”

  An agonized look came over Porter’s face, part of which was her shoulder hurting, the other part the predicament she was in. “Um, can you tell me where I am exactly?”

  “You do not know?”

  She was almost afraid to admit something that made her sound so weak and vulnerable. “I don’t even know my own name right now.”

  The man could see the woman was having more problems going on than just her shoulder. She seemed genuinely tormented.

  “You don’t know your name?”

  Porter grimaced and shook her head. “No.”

  “It would seem that being shot had more of an impact than just your shoulder.”

  “No, it’s not that. Even before, I couldn’t remember.”

  “How long have you been like this?”

  Porter looked around and continued shaking her head. She really had no idea. “I don’t know. I woke up last night in a strange motel, don’t remember how I got there, or who I am. They somehow knew I was there, but I got away. Then they found me again today while I was walking the street. I tried to get away, but they gave me this going-away present.” She then touched her shoulder.

  “Who? Who is after you? The police?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I’m not sure.”

  The man was growing increasingly sympathetic to Porter’s problems. She didn’t seem like a bad person, just someone who was in a lot of trouble. A criminal wouldn’t have bothered to explain their issues, they would have just taken his car or money and been off. She was different, though. There was a painful innocence in her eyes, someone desperate for a little help.

  “Why don’t I take you to a hospital so you can get fixed up?”

  Porter leaned back against the side of the car. “No. I can’t. If an unidentified woman who’s shot shows up at a hospital, they’ll know it’s me. I’ve gotta try and disappear.”

  The man thought for a minute, then believed he had come up with something. He put his index finger in the air. “Wait here for a minute?”

  Porter was concerned with what he had in mind. “Where are you going?”

  “Permit me to go back inside for a moment? I think I may have something that may help you.”

  Porter wasn’t sure about letting the man out of her sight, even for a few seconds. If she made a wrong guess about him and he called the authorities, she’d then have to run from the police.

  “Please,” the man repeated, sensing she was having issues about him leaving. “I may have something for you.”

  Repeating her thoughts that she needed to trust someone, Porter nodded. The man left, going back inside what appeared to be a back door of some business. Porter was still weary and put her hand on her gun, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice if needed. She stood there beside the car, feeling like a fish out of water. She just felt so uncomfortable standing out there in the open. She felt like she was a target for just about anyone and everyone.

  Porter moved around to the bumper of the car, crouching down to conceal herself slightly. Still not liking her position, she then moved to the other side of the car, getting all the way down to the ground so she could see what was going on from underneath the car. About two minutes later, the man came back outside with another man beside him. The two men started speaking a different language that Porter couldn’t understand. It was actually Zulu, which was the most spoken language in South Africa. There were actually eleven different official languages in South Africa, with Zulu the most popular language spoken, followed by Xhosa, Afrikaans, then English.

  The two men continued talking, though with their voices being raised, it actually sounded like they were upset with each other.

  “Miss, are you still here?” the first man asked, looking all around. “Where are you?”

  The other man said something else in Zulu, wondering where this mysterious woman was that his friend kept telling him about.

  “Miss?”

  Taking a chance that they weren’t there to hurt her, Porter got to her feet and made herself visible to the two men. She then gingerly walked around the car to face them.

  “There you are,” the man said with a smile.

  “Who’s this?” Porter asked, putting her fingers on the handle of her gun, not yet trusting the other man yet.

  “He can help you. His name is Boka.”

  “What does he do?”

  Boka, the popular nickname that everyone called him, short for Bokamoso, didn’t speak English and couldn’t understand what they were saying, so h
e didn’t pay much attention to it. He put his right hand in his pocket, instantly catching Porter’s eye, making her nervous. She immediately pulled her gun, aiming it at him.

  “What are you doing?” Porter asked, thinking he was about to pull a gun himself.

  “No, no, he’s not doing anything,” the first man said, putting his arms up to stop Porter from making a fatal and tragic mistake. “He does not speak English. He knows nothing of what you say.”

  “Tell him to take his hands out of his pockets.”

  The man did as she requested and talked to Boka, who immediately took his hand out of his pocket and raised both arms in the air. Porter could see the fear in his eyes that he had done something wrong. Since the man complied with her wishes and no longer appeared to be a threat in her eyes, Porter lowered her gun.

  “Who is he?” Porter asked again.

  “Boka knows people who may be able to help you.”

  “Is he a criminal or something?”

  “No. But he does have some friends who are wanted by the police. I believe he knows a doctor that can treat you.”

  Porter was still a bit skeptical about their intentions and what they were capable of doing.

  “What kind of doctor?”

  Seeing that the woman still wasn’t totally trusting of him yet, the man implored her that he could help her. “Miss, you ask for my help. I promise you this is the best way.”

  Porter finally nodded, agreeing to let them help. “What does he have in mind?”

  “If you get in the back seat, Boka and I will take you to the man he says can fix you.”

  The men then started talking in their native tongue.

  “What is it?”

  “Boka thinks if we’re going to go, we should leave now.”

  “OK. I never did get your name.”

  “It’s Khayone.”

  “Thank you.”

  Khayone smiled. The three of them then went to the car, Porter getting in the back seat.

  “I think it would be wise if you got down on the floor, at least for a little while, just to make sure nobody is spying on us and sees you in the car,” Khayone said.

  Although Porter was initially against hiding again, mostly because she didn’t like not being able to see where she was going, she thought it was probably a good idea. The last thing she needed was the men who were after her spotting her in the back seat and then pursuing them, endangering the lives of the two men trying to help her. She crawled back down on the floor again, getting into a fetal position, covering herself once more with the blanket.

  After about fifteen minutes of driving, Khayone, who was sitting in the passenger seat, reached back and tapped Porter.

  “I think we’re safe now, miss.”

  Porter pulled the blanket off her, taking a few deep breaths, relieved to be seeing things again as she sat on the back seat.

  “How much further?” Porter asked.

  Khayone and Boka discussed it for a few seconds. “Possibly ten more minutes, Boka says.”

  “Do you know this place he’s taking me to?”

  “No, I have never been there. I usually live a quiet life to myself.”

  “So why are you doing this, then?”

  Khayone shrugged. “I don’t know. You need help… so I help.”

  “Thanks again.”

  “No thanks necessary. I’m just doing what any good person would do.”

  “Probably rarer than you think.”

  “Well, you can thank me when this is over and you’re well again.”

  Porter didn’t reply, but she had a feeling that would be a thank you that might never come. Even if she did get her shoulder patched up, there was a long way to go until this ordeal was over. Between her memory and the people chasing her, she might never get there.

  5

  Director Stephenson barged into the situation room, already having a bad day. He had been reminded by his superiors that a rogue agent was bad for everyone involved and a big risk for the continued success and development of not only their black ops programs, but others as well. Before being seen and greeted by Myers, Stephenson stayed in the back of the room and just observed some of what was going on, seeing various names and places flashing on the numerous screens on the wall. When Myers finally did notice his boss standing there, about five minutes later, he hurried over to him to inform him of the latest developments.

  “Sir.”

  “What’s the latest?” Stephenson asked.

  “Two of our agents came into contact with Porter this morning in Johannesburg.”

  “What was she doing?”

  “She was just walking along the street and…”

  “Just out in the open?”

  “Yeah. The team spotted her, chased her into a nearby building, some small manufacturing plant. They attempted to surround her, but one of the men got into an altercation with her.”

  “And?”

  “Porter came out on top, then fled the building.”

  “Damn,” Stephenson said.

  “But the agent was able to get a shot off and nailed her in the back of the shoulder.”

  “She’s wounded? How bad?”

  “Tough to say. The agents did observe some blood on the sidewalk and tried to follow it, figuring she was still in the area.”

  “They lost her?”

  “Unfortunately so. They canvassed the area for an hour or two but couldn’t find her. They believe she may have hitched a ride out of town somewhere before they were able to close in.”

  “She’s going to need to go somewhere for help.”

  “We’ve been checking doctors and hospitals to see if she checked in or appeared somewhere, but so far, it’s a no go.”

  “She’s not going to go to a hospital,” Stephenson said. “Too visible. Check all known underground doctors and medical personnel who have criminal histories or are known to work in that environment who have even a remote connection to the area.”

  Myers immediately directed an analyst to get on it.

  “Why was she in that part of town to begin with?” Stephenson asked.

  “We’re not sure.”

  “Is there anything in the area that’s on our radar?”

  “Nothing. We’ve checked everything. We can’t find any connection.”

  Stephenson stood there with his arms folded, one of his hands covering his mouth, looking at the screens as he thought. He couldn’t understand how she was moving or what she was doing. It didn’t make sense. As everyone continued what they were doing, one of the analysts frantically stood up like he had something of the utmost importance.

  “Sir, Porter’s signal just came back online,” the analyst said.

  Stephenson’s eyes opened wide, hoping this was the big break they needed. “Put it up on the big screen.”

  As the red dot that signified Porter’s existence kept moving along the road, Stephenson’s thoughts immediately turned to how they were going to put her light out permanently.

  “Who’s the closest team we have to there?”

  “Same two agents that found her this morning,” Myers answered.

  “Get them to her location now.”

  “Will do.”

  Stephenson waited a minute for Myers to get in touch with the team and tell them the situation and give them Porter’s coordinates before peppering him with more questions. Once his lieutenant returned to his side, Stephenson was eager to know how soon they’d get there.

  “How far away are they?”

  Myers sighed, not wanting to say what he knew would irritate his boss. “Probably about an hour.”

  “That’s too long. They gotta get there now.”

  “They’ll move as fast as they can.”

  “Why are they so far away?”

  “After she slipped away from them the first time, they started moving through other areas, believing she’d already moved along.”

  “They need to haul ass.”

  “Well, at least
she’s still moving.”

  “I’d prefer her to stop,” Stephenson said. “If she keeps moving, that means she’s still moving away from them. At least if she stops, that gives them a chance to catch up. And why don’t we have another team in the area?”

  “We had them in different locations since we weren’t sure when she’d pop up again.”

  “Get another team in there right away. I don’t like having only two agents closing in on her. It’s not enough.”

  “Will do.”

  “Who knows what she’s up to? I want to strangle her off with as many people as possible.”

  They arrived at a building just outside of Johannesburg, a dilapidated building that looked like it should have been torn down years ago. Once Boka stopped the car and everyone exited the vehicle, Porter just stood by the car, unimpressed with the location and having serious doubts about them being there. Khayone and Boke moved toward the entrance. Once they got to the door, they both waved at her to follow them. Reluctantly, she willed her legs to move forward.

  Once inside the building, she was even more concerned. As she looked around, she observed large holes in the wall and pieces of concrete lying all around the floor. It looked like the building had been bombed in a war or something. She was wary about staying there too long, since it didn’t appear anyone was there.

  “So what are we doing here?” Porter asked. “There’s nobody here.”

  “Patience,” Khayone replied.

  Although she couldn’t remember whether she was a patient person or not, with the way she was feeling at the moment, she’d have to say that wasn’t a word that was in her vocabulary. Maybe it was just the severity of the situation, but sticking around in one spot wasn’t very appealing. As she was moving about the building, she noticed Boka go to one of the front windows and look out.

  “What’s he doing?” Porter asked.

  Khayone was about to answer when they heard what sounded like another car pulling up. The building was not situated on a main road, so they didn’t have to worry about regular traffic or people walking by on their way to somewhere else. At one point, someone actually lived there, but that was many years ago. In recent years, it was mostly used for criminal activities and if someone needed a spot to hide out for a night or two.