She nodded and I saw her vibrating with the adrenaline and said, “Easy. Act like we’re drunk. On a date. We need to get close to them. Can you do that?”
“Act like I’m on a date with you? Yeah, that’s easy. Because it’s always an act.”
I chuckled and said, “Okay, redneck. Get ready to fight.”
Chapter 31
Dunkin began sprinting up the alley away from the Starbucks, chanting a mantra in his head. Give them a reason to quit. Give them a reason to quit.
Before he’d learned he had a genius for computers, a long time ago, in a land far, far away, Dunkin had once been a member of a Long Range Surveillance Unit in the U.S. Army. Established to drop deep behind enemy lines, with no hope of support, they’d had the hangman’s noose of compromise on their heads for every mission. If it happened, they were well outside of any help and pretty much on their own. They’d developed a method after compromise to get the people hunting them to quit: Just make it too hard to follow.
When given the choice between chasing a team up the side of a mountain, or across a river full of crocodiles, the theory was that the average grunt—no matter the country—would choose to slow down or stop, providing the team another day of survival. And the theory had proven correct on more than one instance. But those had all been training missions. Dunkin had never dropped behind enemy lines for real, and he wasn’t sure it would work here, running on the streets of Sydney. There was nothing he could use to get them to rethink. No mountains or snake-infested rivers, and so he resorted to straight-up speed and endurance. If he could outlast them, they’d eventually quit. And he had an edge in that department, because, unlike other computer nerds, he was an endurance runner.
In that endeavor, he might have eventually won, but he failed to realize that the ones behind him weren’t the only ones chasing him—and he couldn’t be faster than the speed of light of a radio call.
He sprinted up the narrow alley called the Nurses Walk, looking for a way out. He saw a sign for something called the “Mission Stairs” and an alley for an arcade leading back to George Street. He opted for the narrow brick staircase leading to open sky above. He darted onto the stairs, thinking any effort on his part would enhance his distance to the men behind him. Give them a reason to quit.
He had almost reached the top when two men appeared, coming back down toward him, both with snarls on their faces.
He turned around, bounding back down the stairs toward the arcade tunnel. He hit the ground and ran right into the group from Starbucks. One man grabbed his collar and he whirled to the left, spinning out of his grasp. He hit the ground on his knees, sprang up, saw the arcade tunnel, and was clocked in the head by another man, knocking him back down.
He rolled over and crabbed on his back, scuttling toward the tunnel. One of them circled around him and kicked his hands out from under him, leaving him flat on the ground. Another aimed a pistol at his head, saying, “Get up. Now.”
He said, “Fuck you. Where is Nicole?”
He was encircled by them and knew he was done. He saw the man glance behind him and had a thread of hope. They were worried about someone witnessing this. Especially after the actions in Fortune of War. If he could stay here long enough, even on the ground, they’d be forced to leave.
The man crushed that notion. He jammed the barrel right into his forehead and said, “Get up now or I’ll kill you right here. And your friend will get the same.”
He looked for a way out, begging for someone to come by and see what was happening. Anything. Anybody to help.
Nobody appeared.
He raised his hands and stood, trying for bravado, saying, “You’d better not hurt her.”
The man punched him in the stomach and said, “You should be more worried about what we’re going to do to you.”
Dunkin doubled over in pain, knowing he was dead, but not wanting to go out on his knees. He stood up, prepared to take the bullet, and said, “Fuck you. Shoot me here, asshole.”
The man raised his fist and another tapped him. They crowded together, the man jabbing the pistol into his ribs, saying, “Not a word. Let them pass.”
A woman and a man holding hands came out of the arcade tunnel, laughing and kissing. He desperately wanted to shout at them, but after what he’d seen, he held no illusions that the man with the pistol wouldn’t kill them both.
The two came abreast of the group, entering the light and heading for the stairs. Dunkin watched them pass, and the streetlight hit the girl full enough so he could see her face. A blonde, with an athletic build and a surfer look. Almost like . . .
And Dunkin’s mouth fell open just as the girl’s date ripped the man with the pistol off of his feet, slamming him to the ground.
The four others reacted, assaulting the threat, but it was like children trying to stop a bear attack. And that was without the woman joining the fight. Dunkin stood in shock as they systematically destroyed the group, working in unison, the woman setting up one for the man to shatter a knee, the man setting up another for the woman to snap an elbow into his face as she threw him over her back, one body after another flipping through the air and slamming into the ground.
In eight seconds, it was over, five men on the ground groaning and bleeding, unable to continue the fight.
Dunkin simply stood, his mouth still agape.
Pike Logan stood up from hammering the temple of the last man and said, “You too big of a pussy to give us a hand?”
He said, “I . . . I . . .”
Jennifer said, “We need to leave. Right now.”
Pike grabbed his arm and said, “Follow us.”
They took off running to the Mission Stairs and Dunkin finally got his voice back. He said, “Pike, we can’t leave. We need to go back.”
“No way. We need to leave here. Right now.”
He stopped climbing the stairs, and Pike realized he wasn’t following. Jennifer turned around and Pike said, “What the hell are you doing?”
“They have Nicole. They took her. They’re going to kill her because of me.”
Chapter 32
Jake Shu dragged himself off the train in Brisbane, tired beyond belief. This was getting to be the worst idea he’d ever had, no matter the price they were paying. He exited the Roma Street train station and waved down a cab.
He gave the address to his hotel, and the cabby, trying to be friendly, said, “Stamford Plaza? That’s a pretty nice place. You here on business?”
Jake honestly had no idea what the hotel was like. He’d purchased a room simply because it was near the meeting location, and he really had no patience with the questions.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m really tired. I’m on my way to Cairns for vacation.”
The cabby tried again. “Where you from?”
“I live in Adelaide. I’m just going on vacation.”
The cabby gave him a strange look and said, “You don’t sound like it.”
“I’m from the United States, but I work in Adelaide. Look, I’m really tired.”
Now interested, the cabby said, “Why didn’t you just fly to Cairns? Paying for all of these trains is just as expensive and takes three times as long. No wonder you’re tired. You know there’s an airport up there, right?”