Brad Taylor - The Polaris Protocol

The man hissed and began jogging in a stutter-step, slowed by the darkness. She saw the shadows, the flickering of movement, and waited. He broke into her line of sight, and she struck, cracking him in the head with the length of wood. He screamed, whirling his own club full force, catching her in the shoulder and slamming her into the metal she was hiding behind. The pain snapped through her like an electric shock, bouncing the two-by-four out of her hand.

She rolled on the ground, and he struck again. She writhed, and the club missed, hitting the concrete. She lashed out with her leg and caught his knee, breaking his stance and opening him up. She rose into a crouch as he brought the club high. He swung and she darted inside. She popped his chin back with her left hand, then speared his throat, driving her knife-hand as if she was trying to hit something behind him. She sprang back, and he fell to his knees, choking out phlegm. His throat swelled, and he collapsed face forward.

Three more.

She heard the men reacting to the noise and moved away in a crouch. She saw a shadow pass to her left and began backpedaling, looking for a new position that allowed escape. She saw a shadow to the right and froze, needing the man to continue on. Needing one-on-one combat.

The shadow moved down a section of Conex containers, then disappeared. She strained her ears and heard a gasp, followed by the meaty thump of something striking metal.

What the hell?

She remained still and heard the man begin moving again, searching away from her.

She circled back the way she’d come, slipping into a block of conveyor belts. She went twenty feet and realized her mistake. The equipment was pinning her in, giving no escape, leaving a single lane to advance. She turned to get back into the facility proper, among the machines, when she saw another shadow. She crouched, staring into the darkness, praying it was her imagination.

The shadow became a man, coming toward her. She slowly started slinking the other way when she heard a noise. Coming from the other end.

She stopped, trying to focus through the overwhelming fear.

Two on one. Two on one. Need to kill the first immediately.

She knew it would do no good. She couldn’t take them both on and win, and they were too close to separate.

The man to her left shouted something in Spanish, and the one to the right answered. They continued on, both with their arms up, one with another club.

They know I’m close.

She crouched and scuttled backward, the belt above her head. Panting, she swiveled left and right, watching them advance, the one on the left much closer. He reached her position, unsure of her exact location. She struck, swinging her leg from underneath the conveyor, whipping it just above his ankles and sweeping him off of his feet.

His head cracked the ground and she fell on top of him, forgetting her skills, instead attacking like a thing possessed. She grabbed his hair and thumped his head into the concrete as hard as she could. Once, twice, three times, until she saw a growing pool of fluid.

She jumped to her feet, hearing the second man closing the distance. Behind him she saw a third, sprinting toward her.

Lord help me, I don’t want to die.

She crouched into a fighting stance, snapping her head left and right for a piece of machinery to separate them. Anything to keep her one-on-one, where she stood a chance of survival. And seeing nothing.

The third man closed the gap, assuring a two-on-one fight, both men less than ten feet away. She growled like an animal and raised her fists. He slapped his hands into the hair of the man up front and yanked him off his feet, slamming him into the ground. He rotated around onto the man’s chest, pinning him and clamping the head in a vise with both arms. He twisted violently, then stood up, facing her.

“You think you could answer your fucking phone?”

Pike. She sagged to the floor.

18

Crossing the border in Pike’s rental, the danger behind them, Jennifer felt the tension begin to fade, leaving her drained. She said, “How’d you find me?”

“Taskforce phone. Did you forget they’re interconnected? I was tracking you the minute I hit El Paso. I was scared shitless when I saw it had been stationary for my entire flight, then I picked up your movement to the industrial park. I couldn’t believe it when you shut it down. The one thing that I could use, and you turned the damn thing off.”

She felt her face flush, only now realizing the phone had saved her life. She snaked her hand into his and said, “I couldn’t talk. It was giving me away… . I thought I was on my own… .”

Pike glared at her. “I told you that you weren’t on your own. I said we’d figure this out together. I still can’t believe you did this. Did it help your brother? I broke a shit-ton of rules getting here, tracking phones, and …”

Jennifer leaned back, turning to face him. “And what? I should have listened, but my brother is in real trouble. He’s been kidnapped. I’m sure of it. I have a video in my purse, and a picture of the house he’s in.”

She expected support but saw the beginnings of a sneer. He said, “So what now, you want the Taskforce to assault a place in Mexico? Is that it? Because you got a voice message from your brother? Jennifer, we’re not the damn A-Team. You just made me kill two men in Mexico to save your ass. You did that, whether you like it or not, and it didn’t do a damn thing for your brother. All it did was prove a point.”

She dropped his hand. “What the hell does that mean? My brother’s not worth it? He’s probably being beaten to death right now, by men just like the ones you killed!”

He said nothing.

She said, “Pike?”

“It means maybe I can’t see the forest for the trees anymore. Maybe I can’t separate our relationship from the job. Maybe this was just a bad idea.”

What?

She said, “Stop the car. Right now.”

“Screw that. We need to get away from the border. Get away from the damage.”

“Stop this car right now or I’m jumping out.”

He looked at her, trying for bravado, but she saw apprehension at what had slipped out of his mouth. He pulled over, letting the other cars pass.

She said, “Who talked to you?”

“Nobody. I’m just thinking. I mean, I need to keep my head, and I’m not sure I can with our relationship. I’m not sure it’s right. Listen, I left a site survey early, got to Atlanta, then caught the first flight to El Paso because of you. I shortchanged a mission because of you. I’m not sure I can do both anymore.”

She stared at him for a second, then said, “So you mean because we’re together in the Taskforce, we can’t be together? Are you asking me to choose?”

He looked out the window. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m making decisions out of emotion, and I can’t do that in this world. With our business.”

She smiled, relieved at his answer. “So Knuckles talked to you.”

He said, “No, nobody talked to me.”

“Liar. He talked to me before I flew. Before the stakeout. He suspected and gave me the same line of bull.” She took his hand again and said, “Look, I can’t answer how you would react in combat without me in the mix, because I don’t know what you guys did before I arrived. I do know that all decisions have a basis in emotion. Just because emotion is there doesn’t make it wrong. It’s only wrong if the emotion leads to a bad one.”

“Jennifer, I just made a bad decision! I misused Taskforce assets and funding to get here. And killed two men. Based on our relationship.”

“And that was a bad decision? I’ve seen you ‘misuse’ Taskforce assets before. All for the good.”

He looked out the window again, saying nothing. She said, “Answer me this: Would Knuckles have gone to Mexico for his brother? With the voice mail that I got?”