CHAPTER 2. NOT GOOD
To John's horror his old friend produced a gas can out of thin air. They were parked in some field were a black car with tinted windows was hidden in the high grass. The sweeping whoosh of a fire igniting brought John's attention back to the van.
"Come on boys, they weren't to far behind and that fire's gonna attract the mibs like black flies to a dead cow."
"Mibs?" John couldn't help but ask. The wheelman maybe mid thirties, dark hair cut short, military to the core, he also wore a black Hoodie and beige khakis. His green eyes focused on John, "Men in black."
"The movie?" John was too old for this.
"For fucks sake let's stop with the knitting circle and get moving." Morgan growled.
"He's always that testy. Navy men." The American scoffed.
"Look Franks, it's been great seeing you again catching up, but I kind of expected us to have coffee and go our separate ways until you were in town again for a pint. But this-" John ran a hand over the back of his head.
"I know Watson, I know. It's a lot. But it's not so much a loss. I do have an opening on the team. The money is good and we could use a Doctor and a good military man." John could see the tension in the other two men, he looked back at the burning van knowing if he said no he would be joining Foreman.
"Well it's been a bit boring lately. How good is this money?" His friend laughed and hugged him, John was very aware that his old friend had a hand to the 9mm protruding from the back of his waistband, and now he was relieved. John knew he'd played the right card.
"We'll discuss the details. First we have to check on his majesty ourselves."
"I should give Harry a quick text." John tried to think quickly. "Yeah, we'll get you a new mobile you'll have to toss that one. Can't chance being tracked." John allowed Franks to take his mobile out of his hand; he could see already several texts from Sherlock. Franks tossed the phone now ringing towards the burning fire.
The drive seemed like miles until they finally exchanged cars again. John was sure to leave his hospital name badge in the seat. Hoping Sherlock would find it.
"Where exactly are we off to?"
"You'll see." The wheelman grinned. The next car was gray and one of those high performance sports cars. John didn't care to be squished into the back next to a scowling Morgan.
"You European boys sure do know how to make some fast cars. Nothing like the Charger I have at home but it will do. Now a Charger that's a-"
"You know the engine size usually means you're compensating-" Morgan started to snigger.
"Then I suppose you drive a big rig." John held back a laugh, thankfully Morgan didn't notice.
"Piss off Tanner!" Morgan snarled.
"Boys! Not now we're nearly there. Once we are inside no talking in that room. You know the orders. Boss says this one has a way of picking up on small details. We lost thirteen of our own just getting to him."
"Fourteen if you count Foreman." Morgan added in a unconcerned tone, but John knew he felt the opposite.
John then realized they were talking about a kidnap victim, of course they were. Pulling up to the abandoned farmhouse with a small shop in the corner the men got out, Tanner covered the car with a tarp. John could see no other vehicles. He sensed they were being watched, after years of being under surveillance of the British Government the ex army doctor spotted the camera's easily.
"This way Watson." Franks directed John through the heavy metal doors of the shop, and John realized there was more to this place especially when he was lead down into a trap door, feeling a bit claustrophobic he descended into a narrow corridor, several florescent bulbs hummed overhead.
The corridor opened into a larger room with three other corridors connected, several crates were labeled "Flammable" and John didn't dare ask what could possible be in them. Handle with care was marked in several languages on the side.
"Who's this?" Someone growled meeting the four. "Where's Sparky?"
"This is his replacement. He's an old friend and a Doctor." The older man in the black t-shirt and guns holstered just under his arms. Eyed John, suspiciously.
"Don't look like much."
"I get that a lot." John replied with a smile.
"Don't worry about him. I vouched for him. Now how's the prisoner?"
"He might need a Doctor, and his little assistant is still knocked out." John didn't like the sound of all this.
"Well you're in luck. Lead the way." he gave another polite smile.
"You heard him. If that posh bloke dies we are out of money and in the Bishops debt and you and I know what he does to debtors."
The other man sighed, "Fine, on your head be it." John made his way down another corridor. The door was open, a man in a very familiar gray suit an expensive gray suit, and ever more familiar silk blue and gold tie. John recognized it, he had after all gifted it to the man on his birthday.
It wasn't expensive but it hadn't been cheap, he could see blood staining the shoulder, he moved to pull the bag off the man's head, his heart was in his throat and he found it hard to swallow. He realized no matter how bad his day was going, this man's day on a scale of bad was defiantly worse. And beyond a bit not good.