Hello, everyone! Sorry for the long wait! Here's the next chapter.
Enjoy!
Song: "London Calling" by The Clash
Day 53
It had been two and a half weeks since John arrived in London. He diligently waited for any indication of Emily and Otto's presences anywhere in the city. He was starting to lose hope that he was ever going to catch them.
Of all the major criminals based in London, there were three of interest to John. Rebecca Taylor specialized in embezzling and money laundering. Tyler Dawson specialized in in human trafficking and border crossings. Duncan Owen specialized in stealing and weaponizing computers and electronics.
But John didn't have enough information to determine who Emily and Otto were going to. All he could do was sit and wait.
John felt like he had nearly eaten through every joint that sold fish and chips. He had gone through countless pints of beer.
He even found himself trying to enjoy the London Eye one night. Its slow rotation irked John and he itched to get off the ride, though the view of London nightlife was calming. He walked off the pod onto the landing platform after the wheel completed a rotation. He walked south, past the concessions stand, where there were monitors showing pictures of the riders as they posed at the right moment.
John caught a glimpse of someone familiar. He saw Emily in one of the pictures from the pod that was after his. She stood next to Otto, the man that had tried to drown John back in Rio.
John quickly turned around, scanning the crowd leaving the London Eye.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Blonde hair. Emily.
A flash of a face in profile. Otto.
John sprinted forward. He pushed past people and weaved through the ground while keeping an eye on Emily and Otto. He didn't want to lose them again. John surged forward and caught Otto by the arm. He could feel a layer of gauze covering the bullet graze on his upper arm. John pulled Otto around to face him.
John was met with a smug smile and the muzzle of a gun digging into his stomach.
"Easy there, Johnnyboy." Otto taunted.
John stared down his foe, not answering him.
"I suggest you take a step back before you're holding your guts in your hands." Otto threatened.
John let go of Otto's arm. He looked to Emily. Sympathy flashed over her eyes before settling back on disgust and indifference. She readjusted the strap of the purse hanging over her shoulder. John caught a glimpse of wires and computer chips in Emily's half-zipped purse.
John stepped back and Otto stowed his gun back away. Otto took Emily by the hand and led her away. They soon disappeared into the thickening crowd.
John stood at the base of the London Eye, wishing he could see what Emily's endgame was.
After seeing the computer components in Emily's purse, John knew he had to confront Duncan Owen. John returned to his motel to retrieve his sidearm, which he shoved into the back waistband of his pants and fixed his jacket so it wasn't noticeable.
Before he left his motel room, he glanced at his suitcase. Wherever Emily went, John would have to follow. He'd undoubtedly have to fly, but he was confident that his passport would be flagged and unusable. So John himself would need the help of a criminal, one like Tyler Dawson to get him a fake passport.
The only problem, at the moment, was that John had no means to find the two people he needed to find. He couldn't go to the police and flash his detective badge. John figured he'd go to the most knowledgeable person around.
A bartender.
John grabbed a wad of bills he traded at a currency exchanger and shoved it deep into his pocket. He left his motel room and locked the door. He walked through London until he found a grimy enough bar to slip into. It was late at night, and the bar had customers, though not too many.
John sat down at the end of the bar, three seats away from the next person. The bartender came over to get John a drink.
"What'll it be." He plainly asked.
"Bourbon." John answered.
The bartender took out a glass and retrieved a bottle of bourbon. He poured John a glass and slid it over to him. John downed the glass in one gulp. He set his glass down and the bartender easily refilled it. John sipped half of his glass.
"I need some information." John lowered his voice.
"Is that so." The bartender put away the bottle of bourbon.
John fished a twenty out of his pocket and set it down on the bartop.
"What do you want to know." The bartender took the bill and put it in his own pocket.
"Where can I find Duncan Owen?" John asked.
"243 Albany Street." The bartender replied.
"And Tyler Dawson?" John asked.
"Not sure." The bartender had the palm of his hand facing up.
John put another twenty and set it in the bartender's hand.
"101 Jacob Row." The bartender replied.
"Thanks." John finished off his drink and stood up. He put another twenty down to pay for his drink and walked away, out of the bar.
After checking his phone, 101 Jacob Row was closer to his current location. John pulled his jacket closer and started walking. After a quick fifteen minutes, he arrived at a black door to a skinny building wedged between two others.
He knocked twice. After a moment, he heard footsteps approach the door.
"Who is it? Whaddaya want?" The man behind the door asked.
"I'm looking for Tyler Dawson. I need to get somewhere." John answered.
John heard several latches unlock and then the door opened. John was pulled inside and heard the door shut behind him. John assumed Dawson flipped a light switch as the lights flickered on.
"What do you need?" Dawson asked. "Travel cards? Visas? A boat?"
"Passport." John answered.
Dawson led John through the small foyer into the main space of the building. There were printers and scanners galore, as well as stacks of fake everythings ready to be distributed.
"Do you have a real one already?" He asked.
"Yes." John said.
"Flagged?" Dawson went to a computer.
"I'm assuming." John replied.
"Alright." Dawson picked up a black shirt as tossed it to John. "Put this on."
John took off his jacket and placed it down on a chair. He put the black shirt on over his own and then fixed his hair.
"Stand there." Dawson pointed to a portion of a wall that had a white backdrop hanging down over it. Dawson dragged over a camera on a tripod.
John moved in front of the backdrop and stood up straight.
Dawson looked through the viewfinder of the camera, but then stepped back. He rummaged around his messy workspace and pulled out a pair of glasses. He tossed them to John, who put them on. Dawson went to the camera once more and took the picture. It uploaded to his computer.
Dawson pulled the camera away and sat down at his computer, working a program to make a believable fake passport.
John took the shirt and glasses off and put them on Dawson's table. He put his jacket on and quickly repositioned his gun in his waistband.
"Okay. What's your father's middle name?" Dawson asked.
"James." John answered.
"And your grandmother's maiden name?" Dawson asked.
"Cooper." John answered.
Dawson typed the names in and positioned John's photograph. "It'll be done in two minutes."
John pulled out his phone and checked how far he was from Duncan Owen's hideout. It seemed to be only a twenty minute walk.
After a quiet minute, Dawson's passport printer spit out a near-perfect fake passport for John. Dawson retrieved it from the printer and handed it over to John. "350." Dawson ordered.
John pocketed the thin, reinforced glass passport and sighed. He pulled 350 from his pocket and handed it over.
Dawson showed John to the door and then locked him out as soon as he left.
John started walking to 243 Albany Street in search of Duncan Owen. He pulled his jacket closer to him as he trudged through the dark streets of London. John eventually got to Albany Street and found the door marked with 243. He knocked.
The door creaked open. John peered into the empty hallway in front of him. He pulled his gun out and pointed it down in front of him. He started down the hallway. A few bare bulbs flickered overhead. His footsteps echoed off the wooden floor.
John reached the end of the hallway. There was an open door at revealed a set of stairs that led down. He was then blinded by a bright light as he was scanned by some device in the door frame. Beams of light focused on his fingertips and his irises. Then the lights faded away.
John blinked twice and stared down at the staircase. He gripped his gun tighter as he went down the staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, he pushed open another creaky door. He was greeted by half a dozen automatic rifles in his face.
The basement of the house was filled with computers and servers with wires roped around the ceilings. There were piles of scraps and circuit boards. There were computer-integrated weapons everywhere.
John heard someone clapping.
"Ya got balls, I'll give ya that, mate." A man said, deep in the shadows.
John surrendered his gun to the nearest guard.
The man stepped forward, moving a toothpick around his mouth. "Officer John Kennex, from the blessed United States of goddamn America. Wanted alive by the American government for disobeying, deserting, and a bunch of criminal charges, too."
Wanted? Alive? John was being hunted?
Did that scanner find out who he was? Who was the man with the toothpick?
Toothpick Man smiled as he stepped up to John. "I know all about you, John." He smiled, his toothpick in the corner of his mouth. "The only thing I don't know is why you're here."
John took a deep, calming breath. "Otto and Emily Clark."
Toothpick Man raised an eyebrow. "And they are?" He faked.
John clenched a fist. "I know who you are, Duncan Owen. Just tell me what I want to know and I'll leave."
Toothpick Man, Duncan Owen, crossed his arms. "Why do you care about them?"
"Otto's the man who stole Emily from me." John said through a tight jaw.
Owen put a hand on John's shoulder and shook it. "You see what blind love drives you to do? Crazy things, mate. Crazy things."
John ripped the toothpick out of Owen's mouth and held it to Owen's jugular vein. Then there was the sound of six guns clicking to attention. Owen lifted a hand and the guns fell back down.
"What did they want?" John asked, pressing the toothpick deeper.
"They came in earlier today and bought droid parts from me. And, and they paid me to overhaul the software of two dozen police droids and ship the droids to them." Owen answered, trying to lean away from the toothpick.
"Ship them where?" John asked.
"Cairo." Owen winced.
John looked around the room. He spotted a hi-tech gun at a desk closest to him. He picked it up and help it up for Owen to see. "What does this do?"
"Laser-guided taser that can reach five targets at once." Owen answered.
"Does it work?" John asked.
"Yes." Owen answered.
John moved his arm backwards and blindly fired. But the taser found five targets, who fell to the ground, twitching from the electrical current. The last man standing started to charge at John, but John slammed the taser gun down on the man's head. He fell to the floor, unconscious.
John looked back at Owen. "Anything else here works?"
Owen backed up a couple steps and turned, John holding the toothpick the entire time in its same place. Owen reached down and picked up several palm-sized discs and handed them to John. John took them in his free hand.
"The bottom disc sends interference when activated. The holder is hidden from cameras, drones, and droids. The next one runs surveillance, enough to give to real time updates from a busy street corner or a crowded room. On top of that is a downloader. Stick on the back of a droid and you'll download all the information off it without it even knowing. The top one turns any phone or computer into a secure source. None of them are traceable." Owen explained.
John nodded and pocketed them all. "Good to know."
"But they come at a price." Owen added.
"How about I don't kill you." John threatened.
"Fair." Owen said.
John stepped back from Owen and flicked away his toothpick. Owen rubbed his neck. John rummaged around the unconscious bodies for his gun. He eventually finds it and put it down the back of his pants.
"Ya gonna call the coppers on me, mate?" Owen asked, already chewing on a new toothpick.
"Why would I? I'm wanted by the police." John answered.
Owen nodded, thinking. "How ya gettin' to Cairo?"
"I got a fake passport." John said.
"Ah, ya went to Dawson." Owen nodded again.
"Yeah." John said.
Owen went and opened a backdoor for John. "Good luck to ya, mate."
"Thanks." John said, walking out of the door and into a dark alley.
John eventually got back to his motel room and sank down onto his bed. He took the discs out of his pocket. He considered using the secure disc to call someone, anyone.
Instead, he used his tablet to book a flight to Cairo.
He was getting closer to them, he knew it. But he didn't know how far away they were to begin with.
He looked back down at the secure disc. He put it on the receiver of his motel room phone. He picked up the slim phone and dialed a number he knew forwards and backwards. Emily's.
He got the disconnect dial tone. He hung and then dialed another number.
"This is DRN 0167." Dorian said over the phone.
John froze. No words could form.
"Hello?" Dorian asked.
John quickly slammed the phone down on the receiver and pulled the secure disc off it. He took a deep breath.
John took out his tablet and booked a flight to Cairo under the name of James Cooper.
If John was a wanted man, he was going to have to act like one.
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