London Calling, page 14
part #1 of Beta Force Series
Zeke stepped closer and peered through the glass. "Yeah, it is. But why is it there?"
The partners burst out of the front door with pistols drawn. They caught a glimpse of Freeman sitting behind the wheel, his face glowing in the dim white light given off by the dashboard. His eyes were wide with surprise, fear, or both. Vincent was nowhere to be seen, but he'd been in the back before, so it was possible that's where he remained.
What was even more shocking were the two bodies splayed out on the grass with arms, necks, and legs bent in various awkward directions.
The gunmen didn't move, not even a flinch. One was facedown on the wet turf; the other was on his back, eyes staring lifelessly into the cloudy night sky.
The driver's side of the SUV was scratched and partially dented, but it seemed the vehicle was still in working condition.
Zeke and Phoenix followed the vehicle's path, tracing it back to where Freeman had deftly piloted it though a side gate, bursting through the wooden barricade and knocking down a portion of the rock wall on either side.
Jessica rushed out of the house and appeared next to the two men as they stared at the scene of death and destruction before them. She had both Philipe's mother and daughter with her.
"What did Freeman do?" she asked, seeing the man behind the wheel.
Freeman rolled down the window. "Come on!" he shouted. "They have Philipe!"
"We know," Zeke said as he stepped over one of the bodies. Then he turned, reached down, and plucked the submachine gun from the man's shoulder. "Better take that," he said to Phoenix. "May come in handy."
"Good call."
Jessica threw open the back door and ushered Theresa and her grandmother into the SUV.
Phoenix struggled to free the weapon from the second dead man's body, but he finally tugged it loose and found the strap covered in thick blood.
"Gross," he said with a scowl.
"Stop being such a sissy. Just unclip the strap and let's go."
Phoenix winced as he did his best not to touch the sticky liquid. He unclipped the first end of the strap and then the second, though it took way longer than it should have.
"Come on, man. They're getting away."
Phoenix dropped the strap onto the man's back and then followed behind his partner. "I didn't see you having to deal with a bloody strap. You should have let me have the clean one if it wasn't a problem for you."
"Yeah, maybe. But I enjoy watching you squirm."
"You're a—"
Freeman honked the horn, and it drowned out whatever choice word Phoenix had selected.
"Hurry!"
The two scrambled around the SUV and climbed in. Phoenix took the back seat while Zeke claimed the front.
In the back, the cabin was cramped with the new passengers, but there was just enough room for everyone.
"Who is this?" Philipe's mother asked, pointing at Vincent.
"Hello, I'm Vincent. A friend of your son. We're—"
"Work associates?" she asked dubiously.
"Yes, something like that."
She scanned him up and down before saying, "I like your outfit."
"Thank you," Vincent said with a condescending glance toward Freeman in the rearview mirror. "I'm glad to see someone in this world still has good taste."
Theresa shifted into the back seat near the hacker and stared at his clothes. "You're like a real-life cartoon."
"And we're back," Vincent sighed.
The doors shut, and before everyone was buckled in, Zeke ordered the driver to step on it.
Freeman already had it in reverse and stomped on the gas pedal. He expertly whipped the vehicle around, shifted into drive, and mashed the pedal again. The SUV shot through the gap in the wall, scraping the sides of the truck again, and slid out onto the road.
Philipe's mother stared at the destruction to her property, but said nothing; her forlorn look saying it all.
"They went this way?" Zeke asked.
"Yep."
"You're sure?"
"Pretty sure," Vincent chimed from the back. "They drove right by us."
"And they didn't spot you?"
"We were staying low. Didn't want them to see us."
"Oh," Zeke said. "I guess…that makes sense. Good job, you two."
Freeman touched the brakes and then pounded the gas again as he spun the steering wheel. The back end of the SUV whipped around. The rear tires dug into the pavement, tearing loose chunks of rock from the surface and spitting them backward.
The vehicle lurched forward and sped toward the town of Cambridge. The SUV climbed a short rise and then descended the other side. Fields of wheat and barley lined the road, along with thick stretches of shrubbery, but ahead there was no sign of the enemy's vehicle.
Freeman slowed and peered through the windshield. There were no headlights for miles ahead, and from this vantage point, they would have seen something.
"What are you doing?" Jessica said, louder than necessary. "Why are you stopping?"
"Because they're gone," Freeman said. He surprised himself at how loudly he'd answered and immediately regretted it. "They're gone," he added in a softer voice.
"So drive faster," she insisted.
"We don't know if they went this way," Freeman said. "They could have gone the other direction. If they were anywhere up ahead, we'd see them from here. Too much time has passed. They're long gone now."
An overwhelming pall of gloom settled into the vehicle.
"Where did those men take my daddy?" Theresa asked, the grief in her little voice cutting into the silence like a katana.
"We don't know, honey," Jessica said, reaching back to pat the girl's knee.
"There's only one person who can help us now," Vincent blurted.
Everyone turned to look at him. He was cramped in the back row with his laptop on his knees. The glow from the screen cast the same eerie white glow it had before, but now that light seemed to give the rest of the passengers the slightest glimmer of hope.
"Who's that?" Phoenix asked.
"Some woman he has a crush on," Freeman answered.
Everyone turned to face the driver and then looked back to Vincent.
"A woman you have a crush on?" Zeke asked.
"Thank you for that, Gary. I appreciate it." Vincent sighed. "Her name is Marilyn, and she's the most powerful, most connected hacker I know. If anything sinister is going on in the digital world, she knows about it."
"Sounds like you do have a crush on her."
"Here we go."
"Did she break your heart?" Phoenix asked.
"Or did you break hers?" Jessica wondered out loud.
"Very good. Can we please get moving? Last I checked, this girl's father was just taken by some bad people, and you lot are wondering about my dating life."
"Right," Freeman said and steered the truck back onto the road. "So, where are we going?"
"She runs a nightclub in North London. We can find her there. She said her security people will let us see her."
"Okay," Freeman said. "What's the name of the club?"
20
London
The group stood outside the entrance to an old brick building with a gray wooden door. The only indicator that this was the correct place was the small image of a medieval knight on his steed carved into stone and placed above the doorway. That…and the muted deep bass pounding from somewhere inside.
"Seriously? It's called the Knight Club? That's what she called it? Doesn't seem very creative.”
"I think it's clever," Phoenix argued.
"You would."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't think it's so bad," Freeman offered.
"You know what doesn't matter, guys?" Jessica interrupted. "The name of the friggin' club. Now can we please, for the love of all that is good and decent, get off the street and into the building so we can find this Marilyn person and get what we need?"
The three men glanced at each other, then their boss. Vincent stood off to the side, giggling.
They'd left Cambridge and driven south toward London, making a short detour into the small town of Harlow where Theresa and her grandmother were left with a friend, a woman about the same age as Theresa's grandmother.
Satisfied that they hadn't been followed and that Philipe's family would be safe, at least for the short term, the group returned to the road and continued toward North London.
"I don't like it," Jessica confessed. "It's after midnight. Nothing good ever happens after midnight."
"I thought it was two o'clock," Zeke arched an eyebrow at her.
"It's both. Come on. We need to stop hanging around out here on the street. People will notice."
Jessica stepped to the door and pulled it open. The muted sound of bass thumping inside immediately swelled as the door swung wide. She stepped to the side as a drunken reveler stumbled by. The young woman was scantily clad and pulled an equally drunken young man by the wrist.
The group watched in rapt curiosity as the two staggered to the side of the building where they began ravenously making out.
"At least someone will have a good night," Vincent quipped.
No sooner had the words escaped his lips than the young woman pushed the guy away and heaved violently, expelling the contents of her stomach into the alley. At the sight of it, the young man joined in, adding to the concoction now coating the sidewalk.
"Or not," Phoenix said.
"That. Is. Disgusting," Zeke said, horrified. He felt bile creeping up into his throat and had to fight off his own sudden urge to puke.
"Come on, boys," Jessica said. "Show's over. We have work to do."
She stepped through the door and into a different world. Zeke held the door open as she passed and allowed the others to enter first, then he pulled up the rear, giving one final look around to make sure no one was following them.
Inside the club, the throbbing sounds of electronic dance music filled the narrow hallway. The walls were lined with black sconces holding electric candles. The paint on the walls was such a dark blue that it, too, looked almost black. Up ahead, at the end of the corridor, flashing lights bounced off the corner wall where a bouncer stood blocking the entrance into the club.
He was just shy of six feet tall with bulging, veiny muscles sprouting out of a black T-shirt that was easily a size or two too small. He glimpsed the approaching visitors and turned to face them.
Jessica stopped short and motioned for Vincent to step in front. "You wanna do your thing?"
"Certainly," Vincent said, and he sidled by the others. He looked up at the bouncer with no small measure of anxiety but forced himself to speak as confidently as he could. "Hello. We're here to see Marilyn."
"Who are you?" the bouncer asked. His voice was deep and matched the exact imaginings of everyone in the group.
"Um, well, my name is Vincent. I'm a friend of Marilyn's. She's expecting us."
"What's with the suit?"
Vincent bit his lower lip, holding back a lashing he wished he could give the bigger man. "I…like the style. That's all. So, if you could just point the way to where we meet her, I would greatly appreciate it."
"Marilyn doesn't take meetings. With anyone." He leaned forward so that his nose was just a few inches away from Vincent's.
The bouncer's breath reeked, but Vincent didn't back down.
"She takes meetings from me," he said defiantly. "I suggest you tell her we're here, or when she and I speak, I'll be forced to tell her you delayed us. I assure you, you don't want to delay us. Especially my friends here." He motioned back toward Zeke and Phoenix, who were putting on their most intimidating faces. Their expressions wouldn't have frightened the attendees of a child's birthday party, much less the seasoned bouncer, but something in Vincent's voice must have swayed the man.
"All right. Tell you what I'm gonna do." The bouncer scanned the group, unimpressed by any except Jessica. His gaze clearly lingered on her for a few seconds too long. "I'll ring the boss and see what she says. If you're lying, I'm going to get my boys to come escort you out."
"Thank you," Phoenix said. "We appreciate it."
The bouncer looked at him as if he was crazy. "You won't appreciate it if my boys have to escort you out. You see, they have a knack for finding all the right ways to hurt a person. They'll take you to the alley ’round the corner and work you over a bit. They won't kill you, but you might wish they would before they're done with you."
"The alley next door?" Zeke asked. "Not to be a bother, but I think it's occupied right now. There was a young couple making out over there before we came in. Of course, they ended up vomiting everywhere, so they might be passed out on the sidewalk. Either way, it might be rude of us to intrude."
"Shut your mouth," the bouncer snapped. "What's with him?" he asked Vincent. "Some kind of wise guy?"
"I don't know. We all get tired of it."
Zeke started to defend himself, but Phoenix grabbed him by the elbow and shook his head.
"Fine," the bouncer continued. "I'm calling Marilyn. Last chance to get out of here in one piece." He took a phone out of his pocket and began dialing the number. He held it out as a warning to the group before he hit the green button.
Behind the man, the dance floor raged with people jumping up and down, arms flailing in all directions. There were hundreds of patrons, all writhing to the beat of the music. Two cages hung above the bar to the right, each with a female dancer in a bikini.
The bar spanned nearly the depth of the room. Three bartenders manned it and appeared to be perpetually busy slinging drinks to the thirsty dancers. The line at the bar was three deep nearly the entire way across, and Zeke couldn't help but think maybe they should have hired more help.
"All right, then," the bouncer said. It was easy to tell he was trying to call Vincent's bluff, though it was more difficult to tell if the man wanted Vincent to be lying or not.
The big man almost sounded like he would enjoy watching the guys in the group get the crap beat out of them, though it was unclear what role Jessica would play in such an event. More than likely, she would be sent on her way, but there were also other possibilities that caused Zeke's stomach to turn.
"It's ringing," the bouncer said as he pressed the device to his ear. "Tell the boss she has some visitors. Some guy calling himself Vincent is here to see her."
Vincent swallowed hard as he waited to hear the reaction.
"You're sure she's expecting us, right?" Freeman whispered into Vincent's ear. The uncertainty in the question was palpable.
"Far as I know," Vincent answered.
The bouncer watched them suspiciously as he listened to the other person on the line. "Yeah," he said, "he's wearing one of those suits that looks like it's from the 1920s or something."
"Forties," Vincent corrected involuntarily.
The bouncer tightened his eyebrows into a scowl but didn't comment. Then his expression softened into one of outright embarrassment.
"Yes, sir," he said. "I'll send them right up. Please, apologize to the boss for me. I didn't know."
He ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket. The bouncer's demeanor had changed dramatically, and he stepped to the side. "I apologize, sir. It appears you were telling the truth. I'm sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused. I didn't know it was you, you see. I had no idea. I'm new here, just started last week."
"You're lucky I don't drain your bank accounts right now," Vincent threatened. It was a hollow threat and he knew it, but the bouncer didn't. He was a sheep, just like most of the people in the club, or in the world for that matter. That's what hackers called people who had no clue what went on in the seedier side of the digital underworld.
"Thank you, sir," the bouncer reiterated. "I appreciate your patience. Won't happen again. Right up the stairs over there to the left." He motioned to a metal staircase that ascended toward the back wall and disappeared behind the elevated DJ booth.
Vincent nodded. "See that it doesn't." He strode by the bouncer and didn't exhale until the man was safely ten feet behind them.
When he reached the stairs, he continued up, though at a more deliberate pace.
"That took guts," Freeman said. "Well done, sir."
"Thanks," Vincent said, finally catching his breath again. "Good thing Marilyn really is waiting for us."
"Wait. You didn't know? I thought you said you spoke with her."
"I did. But she's…fickle."
They rounded the first landing and continued toward the second floor, where an elevator waited with doors open and an even bigger bouncer standing in front. He was taller than the first, and twice as menacing.
"Fickle?" Freeman hissed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Vincent shrugged. "Let's just say that Marilyn is prone to changing her mind…rapidly."
They climbed the last step and proceeded to the elevator. The guard stepped aside and motioned them in. Then he pressed the button for the fourth floor and returned to his post outside the lift. Two seconds passed before the doors slowly closed and the elevator started to rise.
"Good one back there," Zeke said. "I thought you were gonna piss yourself for a second." He slapped Vincent on the back, and the force of the blow caused the recipient to rock forward.
"Yeah, well, it's not what you know…it's who you know."
"I'm just glad this Marilyn person knows you. Otherwise, we'd be up a creek."
"I'm sorry?" Vincent said.
"Up a creek?" Zeke repeated. "You know. Without a paddle?"
The blank stare told him Vincent didn't know what he was talking about.
"What creek?"
"It's an expression, Vincent. Jeez. Do you ever get out…of the 1940s?"
Jessica interrupted the bickering before it escalated. "This Marilyn person. What's she like? You think she will help us?"
"That depends on her mood," Vincent said honestly. "If she feels like helping us, she will. If not, we'll end up next to the pools of vomit in the alley."
"That…doesn't make me feel better about all this."
"It'll be fine," Vincent said. Then he lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "I just hope she's forgiven me."
