Brad Taylor - Enemy of Mine

Dammit. “Break off, break off. Circle the block. Pick him back up. Go north into the diplomatic quarter. He’s probably trying to intercept the dip-pouch.”

“Pike, our embassy is hell and gone from here. The State guys aren’t hauling money to the Australian Embassy.”

“We don’t know what the hell those guys are doing. How they’re going to transfer the cash. Lucas does. Find him, now! We’ll take up the slack on the vehicle.”

Since Lucas was gone, we were fresh. The driver would have no idea who we were. Jennifer was already burning rubber to make up the ground, instinctively knowing what I would say and that we were in the game. I vectored Brett one road over and caught the Ford passing in front of us. Knuckles shouted, “There he is!” and Jennifer jerked the wheel, cutting off traffic to get behind him.

He said, “Whoa! Keep it steady. We’re still in a follow here. Don’t burn us.”

Jennifer looked at me for guidance, understanding the situation even before Knuckles. Already knowing what I was going to say.

“Brett, we’re headed north on Al Asmakh Street. Cut over to Grand Hammad and box him in. Get ready to take him down.”

Knuckles realized the problem a split second after he’d opened his mouth. “Okay, okay. I got the right side. Passenger side.”

This guy was the only anchor we had to Lucas, and we needed the information in his head. It would be quick and dirty.

I said, “I’ll take the left. Brett, you pin him in. Don’t let him escape to your front.”

“Roger all.”

The vehicle never made it to Grand Hammad, pulling into the parking lot for a shopping area. I looked at the moving map on my phone and saw it was the Souk Waqif. Great. A rat maze.

The vehicle stopped outside a hotel, and the man exited in a hurry, looking over his shoulder. He was wearing Western dress. A uniform of some kind. He saw us coming and took off running. Straight into the souk.

Brett parked at the far end of the lot and came sprinting our way. I said, “Jennifer, get this thing ready to roll out of here. Knuckles, go left. Block the left.”

I knew it was a ridiculous order. The souk would have forty different exits, and there was no way Knuckles could block them all. I started to chase, pounding across the parking lot and watching the target disappear through a door. Then I remembered Dubai and Brett’s track-star speed. “Brett! You got him?”

He was behind me, still catching up. “Yeah. I see him.”

“Catch his ass.”

I was running flat out toward the door he’d disappeared through when Brett passed me like I was standing still. I was able to see Brett jerk right and struggled to keep him in sight. The souk was narrow, using only natural light, making it hard to run full-bore for fear of slamming into something. I was knocking folks out of the way trying to keep up when I broke out into an alley that wasn’t covered.

Brett was forty meters ahead and right on the guy’s heels. He leapt through the air and hammered him just below the shoulder blades, slamming the guy into a stall full of parakeets. I caught up a split second later, hearing the stall owner screeching just like his birds. A crowd gathered, and the screeching grew louder. I looked around and saw birds all over the damn place. We’d caught him in some aviary zoo, with stalls left and right jammed with all manner of fowl, the owners now raising their arms and squawking louder than the goods they were selling.

By the time I’d reached them Brett had the guy in an arm bar, the man’s teeth gritted in pain. I turned around and pointed at the gathering crowd, telling them to back off in English, but using my tone and stance to convey what the language barrier would not. They got the point and quieted down, content to watch the circus.

I knelt down next to Brett. “What’s he saying?”

“Nothing. He was hired to drive Lucas. He dropped him off next to the City Center mall. Nothing we don’t already know.”

I leaned in close. “Crank his arm.”

Brett did so, and the man shrieked. “Listen to me,” I said. “The man you carried is going to kill someone. I’m trying to prevent it. If you don’t want to help, you’ll die as well. What was his plan?”

The man moaned, his eyes rolling, and I could tell he was making connections he hadn’t before. He’d done something more than just drive for Lucas and he was now realizing it might be bad. He said, “I don’t know about any plan. He said he was a businessman. Here on business. All I did was drive him from the airport. I don’t know about any plan.”

“Where is he staying? Where were you going to take him?”

“To the mall. I swear, he told me to take him to the mall. That’s it.”

Lying through his teeth. I jerked his collar tight, cutting into his throat. “Tell me more than that, you asshole. You didn’t pick him up as a cab fare, and he didn’t have you meet him at the airport to take him to the mall. Where was he going?”

The man’s eyes flicked wildly left and right, and he shouted in broken Arabic to the crowd around us. They began to react, closing in. I jerked his lapel again and felt something cut into my hand. His name tag. From the Four Seasons Hotel.

I shook him hard and said, “Is he going to the Four Seasons? Is that it?”

He moaned again, and nodded. “He’s trying to get special favors from the American delegation there. For his business. I’m not supposed to say anything. Don’t tell him I told you. He owes me money.”

I stood up, telling Brett to release him. When I turned around, we faced a hostile crowd, angry at the way we’d treated the man. I ignored them and continued to work the problem.

“Knuckles, call Kurt and find out what you can about the Four Seasons Hotel and the peace conference. See who’s staying there. Jennifer, back the SUV right up to the door we entered.”

Knuckles acknowledged, and Jennifer said, “I’m already there, what’s up?”

The mob had gotten tight around us, allowing the driver to flee out the back of the bird souk. Two men closed on Brett and began shouting, inside his personal space.

“We’ll be coming out hot. Keep the engine revving.”

Brett pushed one back, and the other threw a pathetic roundhouse. Brett dropped him with a straight punch, and the throng went wild.

I wasted no time trying to reason with any of them, even though most were still doing nothing but yelling. I hooked the legs of the nearest guy and jerked him to the ground, then popped the man behind him in the mouth, causing him to crumble. My intent was to open a path, not hurt anyone.

Someone grabbed my shoulder from the front and I clamped my hand over his, trapping it. I leaned forward, rotating down and away, and heard the wrist break. The guy screamed and dropped. Someone flew into the wall to my right, his head snapping back and making contact with the stone. He fell like a sack of wheat, and I saw Brett running back the way we had come. I took off after him, thinking of the old proverb about running from a grizzly.

I don’t have to be faster than the bear. Just faster than you.

Brett apparently knew the proverb as well, running like a scalded cheetah and leaving me to the crowd. Luckily, while there was no way I could catch him, I could certainly outrun a bunch of wheezing souk-stall owners.

I jumped into the back of our SUV seconds after Brett. I glared at him and said, “Jennifer, get the hell out of here.”

She hit the gas, driving to Brett’s vehicle on the far side of the parking lot. I turned to Knuckles. “What did you find out from Kurt?”

“Nothing good. I’ve vectored Decoy, but we’re probably already too late.”

“What?”