Verifiable Intelligence (6 page)

“Do you know where you’re going?” Antonio handed Jace the keys to the bike.

“South.”

“Just checking. I’m never sure if you assassins ever see anything in a city other than your mark.”

Jace flipped Antonio the bird as he revved up the bike and shot through an open bay in the garage. He had no idea how trustworthy Herrera really was. His gut was nagging him. Something told him there was more to it than the man was saying.

Chapter Seven

The rushing wind was a relief as Jace eased the Ducati down the winding highway. It cooled his cheeks and cleared his head. He had plenty of time to make the drive from North County to Eureka, Missouri and Six Flags. In fact, he had too much time.

He knew Dayne had no clue how tight his time schedule was. She had no reason to know. She’d been sucked into the situation without being told the players or the rules. He couldn’t suppress a grin as he recalled how stubborn Dayne could be about doing things her way. It’d been her stubborn streak that had ended their eight-month partnership. She’d been too bullheaded to listen when he told her Ramsey Vitale was screwing them over. Even when he’d produced verifiable intel that supported his claim she’d brushed him off because her gut told her different. Dayne trusted her instincts. Jace trusted the facts. It didn’t make for a pleasant working relationship.

It galled him that she had watched Ryan’s abduction without doing a thing to help. But he couldn’t fault her. He would’ve done the same himself before Ryan came into his life. Responsibility for his younger brother had changed the way he viewed things.

Dayne was all about survival. She’d always been that way. She looked out for number one. He knew that. At one time he’d admired it. He still did. But he wondered if she experienced the emptiness that had once plagued him. Number one was a lonely place to be.

There were only four cars in the Waffle House parking lot. That suited Jace just fine. He was hungry, having just spent nineteen hours in the air with nothing but nasty airline food for sustenance. His concern for his brother aside, he was still a practical man. If he was hungry, he was distracted. So since he had the time, he might as well eat.

The interior of the small restaurant was old but clean. He seated himself in a corner booth with his back to the wall and his eyes on the door. Habits like that one could save a body’s life.

“Can I get you something to drink?” A slender woman in her late twenties with smooth skin the color of warm cocoa flashed him a bright smile.

He rubbed a hand down his face and offered her a tired smile in return. “Coffee,” he said.

“I’d ask whether you want regular or decaf, but you look like you could use the pick me up.”

“Regular’s fine.”

After a trip to the wait station she filled a thick ceramic mug with steaming black coffee.

Jace took a drink. It burned like acid the whole way down but it woke him up.

“You ready to order?”

“Steak and eggs.”

“How you want your steak?”

“Medium.”

“Eggs?”

“Scrambled.”

She smiled warmly. “It’ll be just a few minutes and it’ll be right up.”

“Thanks.”

He watched her go. She seemed nice, and he wondered if her life was normal. He’d found over the years that most peoples' weren’t. What was normal, anyway? It wasn’t him. No one could consider him normal. Jace McKay, killer, spy, and mercenary for hire. It was just a job to him, just another paycheck.

A newspaper caught his eye. Under a headline reading Amber Alert, there was a sensationalized account of Ryan's abduction. It included several comments from eyewitnesses to what the local media had dubbed the “library execution.” Ryan’s picture was plastered across the front page. Jace would’ve preferred to keep his brother’s abduction below the radar but the detectives would’ve thought it strange if Ryan’s aunt hadn’t treated the situation the way they recommended.

“It’s terrible about that boy, you know?” the waitress said as she reappeared to fill his coffee cup.

“Yep.”

“No kid should have to worry about someone just grabbing them like that.”

“No, they shouldn’t.”

“And in a library.” She
tsked
. “Man walks into a public library with a gun and just starts threatening people!”

“It’s amazing isn’t it?”

He was letting her vent for two reasons. One, he wanted to seem like every other customer that came in to eat, pleasant but not too friendly. Two, he wondered if she’d know any rumors he hadn’t heard yet.

“Then there was that thing right after the kid got taken where that poor woman’s house blew up!”

Jace blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t hear about that?”

“I was traveling. I only heard about the kid.”

“Oh, that must be why you’re so tired, poor thing. You’ve got jet lag!”

That was one way of putting it.

“The house was in a fancy subdivision in Ofallon, across the river.”

Jace nodded. He knew where Ofallon was.

“Apparently some men just showed up yesterday afternoon with these huge guns and started blowing the place apart. One of her neighbors got killed. He was shot right through. They showed this woman on the news last night who said the owner of the house got away.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yeah, she drove through the golf course to get away from these people who were chasing her!”

“And her house just blew up?”

The waitress shrugged. “I guess so. The police chief out there said he’d never seen anything like it before. The house just exploded like it got hit by a bomb. So the cops are thinking maybe her heater got punctured or something and then blew up.”

“Wow.”

“They had all kinds of cars out looking for her last night,” the waitress lowered her voice. “One newsman said he thought it might be a mafia thing, you know?”

Jace suppressed a smile with another swig of coffee. It sounded like Dayne to him
.
When she vacated an area she wiped away every trace of herself.

The waitress disappeared for a few moments and then returned carrying a large plate of steaming hot food. His stomach growled in anticipation. The food in Egypt wasn’t bad. But typical Egyptian food was generally lamb or chicken, and it didn’t take long for him to start craving a good slab of red meat.

Jace considered what the waitress had said while he methodically sliced his steak. Someone had gone after Dayne with an enormous amount of firepower. It stood to reason that whoever wanted her dead was tied in with Ryan’s kidnapping. He wished he knew whether or not it was the Russian or his American counterpart. Or worse, it could be both.

“Um, mister,” the waitress approached him hesitantly.

“Yes?”

She nibbled her lower lip. Every other second her eyes darted to the front windows. Jace didn’t have much trouble trying to guess what she was going to say next.

“There are a few guys checking out your motorcycle,” she told him. “I just thought you might want to know.”

“Men and machines, huh?” Jace said nonchalantly. “How many are there?”

“Five or six.”

So it was more than a few. He kept his voice mild. “Are they customers here?”

“I don’t recognize them.”

“Are they driving cool cars?” he prodded. “Maybe they’re just not used to seeing an Italian bike.”

“Hmmm, it looks like they’re in three cars.”

“What kind?” He purposely kept his tone low-key.

“It looks like…yeah, BMW’s.” She was craning her neck for a better view. “Oh, that’s slick. They’re the kind my boyfriend wanted to buy. Like a 3 series or something. I don’t remember exactly.”

“So your boyfriend wanted a BMW, that’s cool.”

“Yeah, he was totally saving up for a down payment, but his credit’s no good, you know.”

“I understand,” Jace said with a nod. “Credit bureau can screw you.”

“Completely,” she said distractedly. “Weird, they’re leaving. I guess they just wanted to look at your bike.”

“Guess so.”

“You probably get that a lot,” the woman fluttered her eyelashes. “My girlfriends and I are totally into guys with motorcycles. They’re
so
sexy.”

It was time to go. He fished in his wallet for a few bills and made certain to leave her a good tip. Not so much that she would think it was outrageous, but enough to give her a positive memory of him.

“Thanks mister, have a nice afternoon.”

“No problem, thanks for the conversation.”

He smiled and took a deep breath before heading out. No doubt about it. He was about to be tailed. They were likely hiding in an alley somewhere. Hopefully the waitress had seen things properly. He’d be looking for three different vehicles to pop out at him somewhere along his route and try to herd him in another direction. That didn’t mean more wouldn’t join the fun later down the road.

Jace rested his right toe on the pavement. The light was red. Only a few hundred yards separated him from the highway. He could see one of the black BMW’s in his right mirror, three cars behind him. He pretended not to notice them. Getting to the highway became imperative. This was unfamiliar territory to him. Jace didn’t mind playing cat and mouse, but he wanted to do it in a place where he knew the layout a little better. Once he reached West County he’d be in a better position to take these suckers for a ride.

The light changed. Jace toed his bike into gear and throttled up. The Ducati engine whined as it accelerated, the on ramp flying toward him. He was preparing to ease onto the highway when the red sedan in front of him hit the brakes.

“Damn teenage driver,” he muttered. “You’re supposed to accelerate when you merge, not hit the brakes!”

Making a split second decision, he ducked the bike to the left. The sedan’s mirror skimmed his arm as he shot past it. The young girl behind the wheel gave him a look of surprise as he whipped by.

Leaning into the bike, he glanced into the pocket between his torso and his arm to check his blind spot. Traffic was just starting to build for the afternoon rush. A prickle on the back of his neck told him the black BMW was gaining.

“How bad you want me alive?” he muttered.

Shifting gears, Jace gunned the throttle. The Ducati leapt beneath him. Wind tore past him, nearly ripping the sunglasses from his face. The power was unbelievable. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Only the strength of his hands gripping the handlebars kept his butt on the seat.

He slipped between two cars and ducked behind a tractor-trailer. His pursuer was just on the other side of the semi’s trailer. With a grin he couldn’t hide, he let off the throttle. Ignoring the blaring horn behind him, Jace jockeyed for a spot directly behind the trailer. Now he was in the cat’s cradle. An SUV to his left, the trucker in front of him, and a minivan to his right, he was all but invisible.

At least until another BMW rolled into place behind him. Jace glanced back in time to see them accelerating through the gathering traffic. He briefly wondered if they actually thought to squeeze him underneath the trailer. He wasn’t going to wait to find out.

The distance between the corner of the trailer and the front bumper of the minivan wasn’t much. He gritted his teeth. He had to time this perfectly or he would be road kill.

“Do or die,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Cold air seeped around the edges of his sunglasses. His eyes watered. Forcing his mind to concentrate, he glanced at the driver of the minivan. The woman was yakking on the phone. Perfect. Hopefully, if she caused a wreck he’d be in front of it.

One…two…three… He shot toward the space. The engine whined furiously. The edge of the trailer was mere centimeters away. Ducking right and then left, his right boot skimmed the surface of the van. Left again and he was in a small clear space.

Behind him, the driver of the van was honking wildly. Jace didn’t have time to worry about her. He was now directly behind the first BMW, and the driver was hitting the brakes.

Shit.

He eased off the throttle. There was nowhere to go. The minivan driver was mad as hell, hot on his tail. To his right was an enormous van advertising a pest control firm. To his left was the semi.

Glancing up, Jace could see the driver's face in the mirror of the tractor-trailer. The hulking man was not pleased. He was on his CB radio, no doubt calling his buddies. Every trucker in the St. Louis area was going to go out of their way to get in his.

He watched the exit signs as they whizzed by. It was past time to get off the highway.

He needed to be two lanes over to the right in less than three quarters of a mile. He eyed his side mirrors. The woman in the van was back on the phone, most likely calling the state patrol. He wondered how far she was willing to go to vent her anger. Road rage was a distinct possibility though she didn’t fit the profile of a gun-toting civilian.

He waited until she was looking before hitting the brakes. Her tires screeched, her expression somewhere between infuriated and horrified. The acrid odor of burnt rubber made Jace’s nose twitch. Now he had somewhere to go.

A small space had opened up behind the pest control van. He was quickly running out of time. Using his body weight, he lurched the bike to the right once, and then once more. Now three lanes away from the BMW’s, he was in a good position to exit.

Harsh horns rent the air. The BMW’s were swerving through traffic to follow. Jace ducked into the nearly clear exit lane and really turned on the speed. Lowering his body against the bike’s yellow gas tank, he gripped the handlebars as lightly as he dared.

He tore down the ramp like a bat out of hell. The light at the bottom was red. There was no way he was going to make it to a stop. Easing off the throttle, he swerved around the line of waiting cars and shot into the intersection.

Tires squealed as cars swerved to avoid running him down. His instincts took over as he dodged right and left as necessary. Only his wits kept him upright and alive.

This was in familiar territory. He’d once fulfilled a contract on a doctor suffering from a severe gambling addiction not far from there. Restaurants, apartment complexes, and storefronts whizzed past as he tore down the street.