Scene XXXV - DCI Enterprises
Three black Suburbans drove onto the DCI Enterprises research campus late Monday evening. The gate was up, with the guards asleep. A quick inspection revealed their sleep was assisted courtesy of tranquilizer darts.
The team was prepared to have Shawn sign them through, but apparently Minh had already made the necessary arrangements. They could only assume the other guards on the campus were similarly neutralized.
The three trucks took different routes to the appointed meeting place. Despite their strong suspicions that Minh had other plans for them, the possibility that he just wanted Shawn eliminated couldn't be ruled out. Without knowing which truck Shawn was in, there was no way for Minh to make a move until they arrived at the meeting point. Shawn could be in any, or none, of the trucks.
Chuck's ear piece crackled with the sound of Casey's voice. "Chuck! Turn off the damn iPod. Radio silence from now on."
With a guilty start, he instantly complied, shutting off 'Mad World' by Michael Andrews. "Sorry," he shot back. Chuck had forgotten everyone else could hear the music through the mike on his collar. He had somewhat humorlessly put together an "If I Should Die…" play list the previous night; apparently, in real life, death-defying missions didn't come with a soundtrack.
His Suburban slowly winded down the central route, his clammy hands guiding the vehicle through the complex. DCI Enterprises had some 120 acres dedicated to research and development, and certain parts of the campus were like a maze. Sarah and Casey had much longer routes to travel, so Chuck proceeded at a deliberately slow pace.
The designated meeting point with Minh was at the heart of the facility. So far, the campus looked deserted.
Casey's voice fed into his ear wick. "Chuck, any signs of life?"
"No, nothing."
Sarah's voice came through, not needing Casey's prompting. "Nothing on my side, either. If Minh has people watching, they're well-concealed."
"Roger that."
Up ahead, the network of buildings ended, opening up into a wider space. Chuck slowed to a stop about fifty feet before the buildings ended. "I've reached the first point."
Casey was first to answer. "I'm about thirty seconds out."
"Likewise," came Sarah's terse response.
At the center of the campus was a diamond-shaped region designated 'Area 5' by its owners, with numbers one through four assigned to sections towards the edges of the complex. Except for a pair of warehouses, a small control tower and a large airplane hangar, Area 5 was mostly just a network of roads and mixed terrain, including a large firing range and a pair of runways. Building 5E turned out to be a good-sized airplane hangar.
"In position," reported Sarah.
A few seconds later, Casey affirmed, "In position. Begin your runs on my mark, and watch your speeds. 3 … 2 … 1 … mark."
At Casey's signal, Chuck pushed down gently on the accelerator, taking the Suburban to twenty miles-per-hour. As he exited into the open space, he saw the other two Suburbans, about 50 feet in front of him, but 100 yards off to either side on separate roads. The three vehicles kept their formation as they crawled towards the hangar, about a half mile ahead.
The two airplane runways intersected in front of Chuck, splitting off at 45-degree angles away from him in both directions. Because of their staggered formation, Chuck hit the runway before Sarah and Casey. He stopped and scanned the area for anything suspicious, allowing the other two to reach the edge of the runway intersecting each of their respective roads. The other two vehicles slowed to a stop.
Casey's voice broke the silence. "Anything suspicious?"
"Nothing," said Sarah.
Chuck commented, "This place is a ghost town."
Casey's snicker came through clearly. "Doubtful. Begin your next run on my mark. 3 … 2 … 1 … mark."
Chuck continued straight towards the hangar at the same speed, taking a moment to wipe each hand on a pant leg as he drove. His road aimed directly for the center of the hangar door.
Sarah and Casey broke off down their respective runways at higher speeds. After a couple hundred feet, the two turned off onto the tarmac laid down for planes returning to the hangar.
The three trucks closed in on the building from three different angles. Up ahead, they could see the hangar doors were cracked open about five feet. A solitary figure stood just in front of the opening in the doors. No vehicles or other people were visible.
Chuck's mouth was a desert. He took a drink of water from a cup in the holder; it only scratched the itch for a moment.
"Slow your approach." Chuck took the command as a reproach until he realized it was directed at Sarah as well. The three eased off their speeds as they entered the tarmac in front of the hangar, coming in from three angles. Casey and Sarah both made a quick swing wide of the building to ensure nobody lay in wait along the sides, while Chuck crawled straight towards the hangar.
Closing in from about fifty yards away, Chuck could start to make out more details about the figure. He stood about three feet in front of the gap in the airport doors, arms behind his back and a briefcase at his feet. He wore a dark suit with a dark tie, and stood with his legs slightly spread. In another situation, he might have just stepped out of the hangar for a breath of fresh air.
When Chuck was close enough to make out the face of the figure, he instantly recognized him as Minh from his original flash. He felt a shock of recognition, but apparently no additional flashes were forthcoming. That was unfortunate given the way the team expected things to play out: every piece of information could become a bargaining chip.
Sarah and Casey finished their checks and angled their cars back towards the figure. The three vehicles closed in, each stopping about twenty yards away from Minh, creating a perimeter around him. Chuck shifted the car into park, and turned off the engine. He studied Minh a little more closely, as if hoping to discover something else. Minh looked calm and relaxed; he looked for all the world as if he was just waiting for old friends to arrive.
Chuck's ear wick crackled to life as Casey spoke. "Let's do this," was all he said.
Chuck sighed. He should be home helping Ellie prepare for her party. Instead, he was about to go after an international criminal that held most of the cards. He climbed out of the Suburban, reminding himself not to lock the car behind him.
The two agents walked towards a point about ten feet in front of Chuck, warily keeping an eye on Minh and the surroundings. The three were dressed nearly identically: black jackets over black shirts, black pants, and black shoes.
Casey looked menacing and intense in his outfit. Sarah looked sexy and confident in hers. Chuck looked tall in his. Tall and nervous.
The three stood about five feet apart facing Minh, hands in their deep jacket pockets. Minh seemed content to let the three position themselves however they wanted to before speaking.
The wind was coming up as the light faded over the horizon. Chuck shivered; whenever he watched spy flicks, he never thought about the cold. He wondered how they handled it.
He looked over at Casey, his face set in a stony glare, his hair blowing in the wind.
He looked over at Sarah, beautiful and intense, wisps of her hair floating on the breeze.
He looked back at Minh, relaxed and confident, casually eyed the three agents.
Chuck frowned. Something wasn't right.
It came to him. He whispered into his mike, "Either Minh uses a ton of product, or there's something not right here." He had noticed that Minh's hair hardly moved.
Casey's eyes narrowed. "Nice shield," he called out sardonically to Minh. "It seems almost like you don't trust us."
Minh's voice sounded strangely hollow. "You have good eyes, Agent Casey. DCI Enterprises has some fun toys in this hangar. But you'll forgive me for taking a few precautions; it is one against three."
Sarah adopted a disparaging look. "Don't insult us. Why don't you ask Chien Quan to join us; I'm sure he's around here somewhere."
"So, you know his name. Intriguing." He called out a command in Vietnamese, and Quan stepped out of the hangar, taking a position flanking Minh. Similar to the trio, Quan was dressed in form-fitting black from head to toe. The way Quan moved suggested the shield extended around Minh's sides most of the way back to the hangar, but did not extend far enough to protect Quan where he stood.
"So, where are the others?" Casey asked Minh.
"As a professional courtesy, I will inform you that several of my associates are nearby. But I notice a member of your party is missing as well? Where is Mr. Liniman? It seems difficult for us to do business if he is not present."
Sarah responded, "Like you, we took a few precautions of our own. We aren't going to put Liniman in harm's way until we know where we stand."
Minh nodded. He seemed to take a moment to assess her. Then he threw a curve ball. "Mr. Bartowski, you seem quiet." Chuck didn't have a frame of reference for dealing with criminal masterminds; nothing really compared. The best he had was the memory of his high school English teacher from senior year calling on him to answer a question about a book he hadn't yet read. That had only felt life-or-death. This truly was.
The pause was drawing out, but Chuck came up with an answer. In what he hoped was a steady voice, he replied, "I'm a man of few words. Much like Mr. Quan."
"Well, Mr. Quan understands English far better than he speaks it. But he does want me to convey again how impressed he was with your performance at the restaurant the other night." At the comment, Mr. Quan nodded towards Chuck with a small smile of appreciation. "He was fully convinced that you thought you were losing your girlfriend. And Mr. Quan is not easily fooled."
At those comments, both Sarah and Casey examined Chuck out of the corner of their eyes with worried expressions. The situation was growing entirely too complicated, and quickly. Chuck decided the best course was to speak as little as possible. "He's too kind."
Minh's face was a mask. He looked as though he wanted to continue with Chuck a bit more, but Casey interceded. "Enough chit-chat. Do you have the documents?"
Minh looked slightly perturbed at the change in subjects, but acceded, "I do. But there's still the matter of Mr. Liniman."
Sarah replied, "Liniman is nearby. We need him to verify that the package of documents you are returning is complete."
The mercury lights on the front of the hangar flickered on in response to the growing darkness. Minh gave a slight little laugh. "Now it is I who should be insulted, Ms. Walker. Am I supposed to believe that Mr. Liniman agreed to help identify documents just to be handed to me as part of a deal?"
Casey shrugged, "I can be very persuasive."
"So can Mr. Quan, but I doubt very much he could accomplish that same feat."
Sarah looked puzzled. "So what do you suggest?"
"I suggest we dispense with the games. You don't care about a bundle of documents that have already been shipped out. Why don't you tell me why you are really here."
Casey pulled a handgun from each pocket; Sarah did the same an instant later. Both leveled their weapons at the only target they had; Chien Quan slowly raised his hands. Chuck kept his hands in his pockets.
Casey asked, "No, why don't you tell us why we shouldn't take care of Quan right now."
Minh barked a command in Vietnamese. A shot rang out from the darkness, the bullet skipping off the ground at Chuck's feet. "A counter-offer: tell me why I should not shoot Mr. Bartowski to loosen your tongues."
On cue, Chuck pulled a dead man's stick out of his pocket, the lights along the handle making it obvious it was active. His face was still pale from the near miss with the gun shot; however, the agents had warned him that might happen, so he managed to keep up a brave front.
Casey smiled, keeping his guns leveled at Quan. "OK, try this. You shoot Chuck, and all three trucks explode, killing all five of us. I'm afraid your shield won't help you there. Now, please tell us again why we shouldn't shoot Quan?" Quan's face grew a little uncertain.
Minh smiled. "You may want to reconsider. If you shoot Mr. Quan, I am afraid I would have no choice but to take out you, Agent Casey, and Agent Walker as well. Then only myself and Mr. Bartowski would remain."
Casey sneered, "At which point he drops the stick."
Minh was skeptical. "Really? You would trade the lives of three agents to take out one defanged information smuggler and his guard?"
Casey smiled back. "Orders."
Sarah appeared unphased.
Chuck was focused on holding the handle on the stick tightly. Letting go of the plunger wouldn't be like letting go of a FedEx package accidentally.
Minh looked less sure of himself. He frowned for a moment, as if thinking through everything that had happened. He somehow reminded Chuck of a card player who wasn't sure whether he should play a key card or not. Suddenly, Minh's face grew calmer.
He said two words, and two words only: "Go ahead."
A chill ran through Chuck. He tightened his grip around the handle, wondering what in the world he should do now.
Scene XXXVI - DCI Enterprises
Andon Minh stood calmly in front of the airplane hangar, seemingly unconcerned that Chuck held his fate, quite literally, in the palm of his hand.
"Go ahead, Mr. Bartowski. If you intend to set off your explosives, now is the time. Otherwise, I suggest you turn off the device, and have your partner agents put down their guns."
Sarah turned and whispered loudly to Chuck, "Don't do it, Chuck. That's our only leverage." Chuck felt conflicted, and he was sure it showed.
"Tell me, Ms. Walker, do you know how to jam that particular device?"
Casey jumped in. "Come over here and I'll show you how I jam it."
"Mr. Bartowski is quite free to release the handle; no explosives will be going off. The full band of frequencies used by that device is currently being jammed."
Sarah gave him a suspicious look, "And how would you know to do that?"
"Your agency is quite thorough, Ms. Walker. When you ask for certain equipment, the information is entered into a system. I have acquired a list of everything you requisitioned last night, including that particular device, and made the appropriate arrangements."
Casey asked, "Are you willing to bet your life on that?"
Minh nodded slowly but confidently. "Please, Mr. Bartowski, end the suspense. Let go of the handle. Let's see whether I am right or not."
Chuck was racked with indecision. Minh looked a bit irritated; he decided to help Chuck along. "Mr. Bartowski, if you do not release the handle, I will shoot one of your partners."
That made Chuck's decision easier; they were backed into a corner, and there was no other choice. With a sigh, Chuck took one last look at Sarah and Casey. "Sorry, guys." Casey and Sarah both turned to protest, warning Chuck not to do it, but his mind was made up. Flinching as if the explosives were in his hand and not in the trucks, he willed himself to release the handle.
Nothing happened.
Casey and Sarah turned back to Quan, but he had leapt behind the shield when they were distracted by Chuck. Having no other options, Sarah and Casey set their guns on the ground with pained expressions, and raised their hands. Chuck followed suit.
Four Vietnamese men with rifles came out of the shadows, two from behind the trio, and one from either side. They took up positions about ten feet away, training their guns on the group.
Minh had a pleased expression on his face. "Shall we adjourn inside?" he asked rhetorically.
Scene XXXVII - Building 5E
DCI Enterprises was apparently planning a demonstration of some of their products, because the interior of the hangar looked more like a convention center than an airplane hangar. The area immediately behind the hangar doors had been converted into a large greeting area; heavy purple curtains were suspended on wires from the high ceiling, creating an entryway complete with a folding table and chairs for the people who welcomed the guests.
Three of the chairs now sat in a straight line opposite the table. Casey and Sarah were tied to the chairs at either end, while Quan finished tying up Chuck in a similar fashion. Three men with rifles kept watch on the prisoners; the fourth kept watch from behind the shield outside the hangar doors.
The trio couldn't see much from where they sat. Off to their left, a gap in the curtains revealed a large flatbed truck carrying a shipping container partially full of boxes; a ramp was still in place, suggesting that the loading wasn't yet complete. Other than that, all they saw were the purple curtains, the table with chairs, and a very pleased Andon Minh with Chien Quan at his side.
Minh stood near the table at the front of the room. He seemed to be studying each of them in turn. Chuck wondered what Minh saw when he looked at him.
He walked over to Casey. "Mr. Casey, I don't suppose Mr. Liniman is anywhere in the immediate area."
Casey smirked. "Sorry, he couldn't make it. He's off toasting in the New Year and telling us everything he knows about your operations."
Casey's barb actually seemed to sadden Minh a little. "Yes, a tragedy, that. It took me a while to build those operations; they were quite lucrative." He sighed. "But that ship has sailed, as it were.
"Given that your government is now aware of my activities, I imagine I will not be able to move around as freely as I once did. However, I do plan to take a few things with me as I exit the country that should provide some small comfort and compensation."
He smiled. "That, along with some information collected from the three of you."
Sarah laughed. "Do you really expect us to talk?"
"No, Ms. Walker, I do not expect you to talk. Your file is quite thorough; it seems you have a nearly legendary ability to resist interrogation. Quite impressive, actually."
Chuck never made it past 'your file'. He couldn't help asking, "Wha-what do you mean, 'her file'?"
Minh's briefcase rested on a table that looked to be designated for check-in, along with their ear wicks, the dead man's stick, and the various weapons retrieved from Casey and Walker. Minh walked over to the table, and opened the briefcase. He pulled out two file folders, and turned back towards the trio.
"I was able to acquire the files of Agent Walker," he held up the first folder for emphasis, "and Agent Casey," he said, holding up the other folder. Even given the situation, Chuck had trouble distracting himself from Sarah's file. He shook himself out of it as Minh approached.
"Interestingly, there was no file on you, Mr. Bartowski. Why would that be?"
Chuck gave an awkward laugh to try to conceal his discomfort. "I dunno, did you spell 'Bartowski' with an 'i' or a 'y'?"
Minh stood over Chuck, ignoring his comment. "Strange. There is no record of you in any government system, yet these agents seem to treat you like another agent. You were able to identify Mr. Quan despite a decided lack of intelligence in any government database. You came here essentially armed only with a dead man's stick. Most importantly, you do not strike me as an agent, Mr. Bartowski. Not in the least. You are truly an enigma."
Chuck was becoming more and more uncomfortable under Minh's scrutiny. It was obvious that Minh was close to figuring out the riddle, if he hadn't already.
Minh continued, "Mr. Bartowski, I would like to keep this civilized. Mr. Quan will be happy to, how shall I put it, coax the information from you, but I really prefer not to go that route."
Chuck looked up at Quan, who had retrieved a case of his own. Chuck was fairly certain that case did not contain file folders. Quan gave him an evil look.
"Please, save us all some time and discomfort, and tell me a little more about your role with this team."
Casey decided to cut in, "You seem to think you know everything, don't you."
Minh's face changed into the same irritated expression he got the previous times Casey interrupted him, which only increased the size of Casey's grin. "It is my job to know everything, Agent Casey. And I am exceedingly good at my job."
"Well, we all make mistakes."
Minh became even more irritated at the mere suggestion. "I do not. I knew your mission plan before you got here. I knew about the three Suburbans. I knew about the dead man's stick and the explosives in the trucks. I knew everything I needed to know to defeat you three while firing exactly one shot."
Casey gave him a cocky grin. "But what you don't know about are the two other men we brought with us. They weren't in the system."
"Please, Mr. Casey, that is below you. I am not one to fall for a bluff like that."
Casey grinned back, and gave three whistles, one long followed by two short. There was a hissing sound, instantly followed by a dull thud, and one of the guards dropped to the ground with a cry. A series of machine gun blasts struck the ground between the prisoners and the two other guards inside the hangar, chasing them back against the hangar doors. They desperately looked around, searching for the source of the shots.
Minh's eyes bulged in disbelief; he seemed frozen to the ground. Quan, moving quickly, grabbed Minh and dragged him back towards the display floor. Minh finally snapped out of his haze and began running on his own.
Another hiss and a thud, and a second of Minh's guards collapsed, shot in the leg. He cried out in pain, dropped his weapon, and raised his hands in surrender. Unable to find any cover, the last remaining guard inside beat a hasty retreat out the hangar doors, narrowly avoiding another shot from the sniper. The two guards used Minh's shield for cover as they tried to angle for a shot inside; the positioning of the shield made that exceedingly difficult.
An agent toting a submachine gun entered the welcome area. He slid over to Casey as he fired some shots at the ground near the hangar doors for cover. The agent quickly cut Casey's hands free and dropped the knife in his lap. He moved forward to fire more cover shots at the doorway, keeping the guards pinned behind Minh's shield outside until he had help.
Casey cut his feet free. He quickly hopped up, slicing Chuck's hands and feet free, then slicing Sarah's hands free and dropping the knife in her lap.
Chuck protested as he stood up, shedding the rope. "What, I can't cut my own feet free?"
Casey was running over to reclaim the handguns and ear wicks from the table, taking a moment to seat his ear wick and stow the handguns in his belt. "Not the time, Bartowski. Find some cover and stay there." He tossed Chuck's ear wick to him, dropped Sarah's guns and ear piece at her feet, and grabbed a long piece of the rope she had cut free. He slid around the side of the room, kicking the weapon of the surrendering guard away and tying the man's hands behind his back.
Chuck was having trouble finding any cover. Aside from the welcome table, the entryway was empty except for the chairs. He was considering flipping the table over on its side when one of Minh's henchmen managed to get off a pair of shots that struck the ground towards Chuck's feet. Chuck let out a panicked cry and retreated behind the curtains into the main showroom area. There he found an open maze of booths and displays of DCI products. There was no sign of Minh or Quan.
The display booths were in varying states of completeness. Some of the booths were completely empty, others had boxed-up product samples with no displays, other had displays but no products. There was a large, mostly-completed raised area at the far end, obviously designed to highlight a few key items.
More heavy purple curtains suspended on wires defined the central floor area while keeping large sections of the hangar out of view to either side. The floor was fairly orderly, with the exception of a large box that lay gutted towards one side of the floor; the molded shape of its packing suggesting it had contained the semi-circular shield out front. Chuck moved back a little into the display area and took shelter between two booths; he sat down, trying to will his heart rate to slow.
Sarah finally freed herself from her chair; the ropes around her feet had been stubborn, and she had trouble getting the right leverage to sever the rope. She seated her ear piece and retrieved her weapons. Adopting a flanking position to the opening in the hangar doors, she worked as a team with the other agent to help to neutralize the two henchmen, holding out until Casey could get into position.
Minh's cronies were still caught behind the shield. It was an unfortunate choice of cover, because every move they tried to make was visible through the clear plastic. Casey slid along the front wall towards the opening, making signals to Sarah regarding where the gunmen were stationed, which Sarah confirmed with a nod or a shake of the head.
In the back of the hangar, Chuck heard a motorized door open. Staying low, Chuck crept towards the main stage area. The noise seemed to be coming from the left of the stage, mostly blocked from view.
Using the front of the stage as cover, he peeked into a large open area in the corner of the hangar. Three shiny new vehicles were parked there: a motorcycle, a jeep, and … an ice cream truck.
"What the …?" Chuck muttered.
Chuck heard Minh's voice issuing commands in Vietnamese in the passenger seat of the jeep. It was the first time he had heard Minh raise his voice, and it was not a pretty sound. Suddenly, the jeep's engine started; Chuck looked around helplessly. He had no way to stop the jeep as it took off through the garage-door style opening in the side of the hangar. Chuck watched the jeep head off towards the closest airport runway.
"Minh and Quan have left the hangar," he said clearly into his mike.
Sarah responded into her own mike, "Chuck, stay put. Do not pursue. Repeat: do not pursue." She fired off a pair of shots, both glancing harmlessly off the shield but pinning down one of the henchmen. Sarah was worried; this was taking far too long, and she was already almost out of ammo.
The sniper joined the other agents in the entryway, switching to a pair of handguns he extracted from his belt. With the increased numbers, Casey motioned to Sarah. "Go after Minh and Quan. I'll be right behind you." Sarah nodded and took off for the back of the hangar.
Casey tried to stick his head around the opening and quickly pulled back, narrowly avoiding giving one of the thugs a point-blank shot. Deciding that wasn't the best route, he ran over to the side of the hangar, looking for another way around.
After the jeep was safely gone, Chuck walked into the deserted area. He examined the motorcycle, running his hands along the seat, wishing he could go after the jeep. He allowed himself a brief fantasy of him on the motorcycle chasing down the jeep before giving a sardonic laugh. Even he had trouble picturing that one.
He looked over at the ice cream truck. He had less trouble picturing himself driving the ice cream truck, hunched over the wheel as Casey passed by on the motorcycle with a sarcastic, "Nice ride, Bartowski." He pictured General Beckham and Director Graham's reaction to the debriefing, and the disdainful looks they would direct at him. Chuck sighed.
Chuck looked over to his left. In the side areas behind the curtains, displays for each of the vehicles were partially erected; apparently they were destined for the stage. Chuck focused on the display for the motorcycle, and zeroed in on the model number: D119MPU.
Chuck's eyelids grew heavy as he flashed.
A fire in a red brick fireplace.
Government contract requesting the motorcycle.
An image of a prototype of the bike.
A design schematic for the bike.
Page after page of instructions.
Similar documents on the jeep.
Similar documents on the ice cream truck.
The fire in the fire place.
Not only had this flash contained information about the motorcycle, it included intel on all of the government contracts for DCI Enterprises, along with documentation. He knew about the jeep, the motorcycle, and even the ice cream truck. All three had some serious extras.
Using his mike, Chuck alerted the team, "We've got vehicles with serious firepower back here." He ran over towards the motorcycle, sitting on the driver's seat. He started familiarizing himself with the controls.
"Chuck!" Sarah's voice called from behind him and in his ear piece simultaneously. "What are you doing?" she asked as she ran up to him.
"What does it look like? Getting ready to go after Minh and Quan."
"Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?" She looked over the bike, noticing a few things she didn't recognize.
"Well, no, but I was just…"
"Slide back."
"What?"
"I'm driving. You tell me what this thing can do."
Chuck slid back on the passenger seat. "No helmet?"
Sarah hopped onto the driver's seat. "No time." She turned the key and kick-started the bike with a practiced motion. "Hold on." Chuck wrapped his arms around her waist. She turned the throttle, and the back wheel spun, then gained traction. A loud roar echoed through the hangar as they took off.
Up front, the two nameless agents kept gaining ground on the door. Soon they were set up so that it was nearly impossible for the two henchmen to work their way around the side of the shields for any kind of shot at them, especially given their every move was visible through the shield.
Suddenly, Casey barked, "Don't move!" The two henchmen looked to their left, and slowly raised their hands. "Drop your weapons! Hands up!" The pair complied; the other two agents rushed out to cover the prisoners.
Casey quickly ordered, "Secure the prisoners and the area. I'm going after the other two." Without waiting for confirmation, he took off for the back of the hangar, his eyes alight at the thought of a vehicle with heavy firepower. He had heard the motorcycle as it took off, and hoped there was a spare for him.
He sprinted into the back of the hangar. Seeing only the ice cream truck remaining, he moaned, "Aw, nuts." He jumped into the truck and turned the key in the ignition. Jingly little music started playing at the engine kicked on. He shifted into drive and floored the accelerator. The truck took off at a snail's pace.
Casey was not amused.
Sarah and Chuck were quickly closing the gap with the jeep. About a mile ahead, the jeep turned right into the narrow alley between two buildings. Rather than follow them directly, Sarah yelled, "Hang on!" and turned right onto the road paralleling the alley to the side of the buildings, quickly coming back to speed. "Does this thing have anything to help disable the jeep?"
Chuck tried to focus, skimming the specs in his mind. "Front rockets." He skimmed some more. "Machine guns." He kept skimming.
"No, we need to try to take them alive."
"Caltrops."
"Perfect! How do I activate them?"
"Blue button on the inside of your right handle. Push the button away from you to unlock it; depress the button to deploy."
Sarah found the button; a circular blue light ringed the base of the button. As she unlocked the control, the whole button lit up in the same color of blue. She picked a cross street and made a sharp left, dipping the bike close to the ground. Chuck stifled a cry of alarm.
Up ahead, the buildings crowding the road gave way to parking lots ringed all four sides of the intersection, leaving an open view for them. Up the street to the left, the headlights of the jeep were shining between two buildings. Sarah warned, "Uh oh. This is going to be close!" She turned the throttle.
Chuck screamed, "Sar-ahhhh!" as the bike took off.
The motorcycle crossed the intersection about ten feet in front of the jeep. As they crossed, Sarah depressed the blue button. The caltrops spread over the intersection with a tinny, tinkling sound.
Sarah braked for a moment before skidding to a stop, throwing the back wheel of the bike around so they could watch what happened to the jeep. It was all Chuck could do to not get thrown, holding onto the bike between his legs and Sarah with his arms.
The jeep crossed the intersection; all four tires blew, and the car slowed. A smile lit up Sarah's face … until the tires re-inflated automatically. The jeep gained speed again.
Sarah gave Chuck an evil look. Chuck was already scanning the specs for the jeep. "Yep. Sorry. Missed that." Sarah peeled out again in pursuit.
Casey was only moving about 40 miles per hour. "Chuck!" he yelled into his mike.
The wind roaring through Chuck's ears made it difficult for him to hear. He used Sarah's back as a shield against the wind. "What!" Chuck screamed in response.
"I thought you said the ice cream truck had some firepower." His tone made it clear whom he blamed for the current state of affairs.
"It does, but it has to be activated; the vehicle has a civilian mode and a pursuit mode!"
"How do I activate pursuit mode?"
"Enter 225411 on the radio presets!"
Casey looked down to find the radio, and started entering the numbers.
Chuck continued, "You might want to buckle yourself…"
Upon entering the last number, the radio panel flashed, then flipped. A number of other gauges flipped as well, revealing numerous high-tech displays and control panels. The doors to the driver's compartment slammed shut, while the serving window sun screen flipped up and latched down onto the roof. Part of the floor levered up to close the gap in the window, mounting a set of rockets on the side of the truck.
Most notably, rocket boosters popped out of the rear of the truck and fired, throwing Casey back against his seat. The vehicle took off down the runway; Casey's face transformed from annoyed to thrilled. He let out a maniacal laugh the as the speedometer tore upwards.
Sarah was following the jeep at a safe distance. "Anything else I need to know about the jeep?" She sounded annoyed.
Suddenly, a rocket launched from the back of the jeep. Apparently Quan and Minh hadn't figured out how to aim them, because the rocket went well wide of them.
"You mean, aside from the rockets?" he said, turning to follow the rocket's path behind them.
"Chuck!" she screamed.
"Grease film and rockets, but that's about it off the back. Now, if he gets turned around…"
"He won't. How many rockets does he have?"
"Three more."
"Great."
Rocket #2 fired, this one passing within three feet of them. Sarah slid over to the right side of the road, just as rocket #3 whisked right through their previous line. She periodically slid from one side to the other, trying not to give the jeep a target for the last rocket.
Casey called in. "Where are you guys?"
Chuck correctly guessed that Casey was still on the runway. Shielding himself behind Sarah again, he answered, "Turn right between the first two buildings ahead."
Casey saw the buildings, and started braking. The brakes were good, but there was no way he could slow down in time. "How am I supposed to turn this boat at 90 miles per hour?"
Chuck scanned the specs. "It can handle that."
"WHAT?"
"Wait; you need to get your speed is under 80, but it can make the turn!"
Casey kept a foot on the brakes and checked the speedometer. He would be below 80 when he turned, but his face clearly expected the worst. He reached across with one hand to pull his seatbelt across his body and buckle himself in. With an expectantly pained expression on his face, he started his turn.
On the roof of the vehicle, a wing rose along one side, pinning the truck to the ground as it made its turn. Sure enough, the truck kept all four wheels on the ground; Casey almost clipped the near wall, expecting to need more room.
He stepped on the accelerator after the turn, and the rockets burst into life again. Pressed against the seat, he gave a fierce, satisfied smile, his eyes alight. "I gotta get one of these."
Sarah continued zigzagging across the road to make herself a lousy target. Up ahead, the rear of the jeep grew fuzzy. Sarah knew what was coming.
"Hang on!" she screamed again.
"You say that an awful lot," Chuck complained, tightening his grip around her waist.
The jeep had deployed the grease film, spraying the air and the road with light-colored oil. Sarah slowed down briefly, anticipating the start of the field, and then picked a straight line and did not waver. "Hold still!" she commanded. Chuck froze as best he could.
The wheels of the bike slipped a little, but Sarah managed to keep the bike upright as they passed through the field. The grease in the air settled all over them, creating a slick sensation on their faces and a foul taste in the mouth of Chuck, who didn't think to keep his mouth shut. He made a disgusted face, flinching and trying to rid his mouth of the taste.
Just after they exited the field, the jeep fired its last rocket. Sarah took a chance that the grease had come of the tires and dodged back to her left. Her instincts were good; the wheels managed to hold on the dry ground, and the rocket passed them on the right. Sarah quickly aligned the wheels forward.
Chuck looked behind him, checking for Casey. His headlights were still a good ways back. He turned back forward. "Casey! Casey! Grease field ahead!"
"Roger that," was Casey's only reply. Chuck took another peek, and saw the ice cream truck slowing in the distance; not knowing exactly where the field lay, Casey must have decided to find another way around.
Out of rockets, the jeep swung to the left through the gate of a high-chain linked fence into a warehouse area. There were stacks and stacks of crates to the left and drums to the right. The jeep swung right.
"Enough of this," Sarah said intently. "How do I fire the rockets?"
Chuck scanned his mind again. "Press the speedometer gauge twice to activate video."
Sarah complied; the round speedometer suddenly showed a view of the road ahead of them. She turned left to go through the gate.
"Select a target by touching the video screen. When you have the target you want, depress the yellow button to the left of the view; the rocket will lock on via the video, and the button will turn green. Press the red button to the right to fire. You have two rockets."
Sarah swung back to the right, but rather than aiming at the jeep, she aimed at a huge stack of drums further along the road. Locking in the target, she pressed the red button.
She had to fight for control of the motorcycle as the rocket ignited, torquing the handlebars. She braked, waiting to see the result of her shot.
The rocket flew slowly for a second, then gained speed and exploded on the bottom level of the drums. The explosion blew the stack of drums into the air about forty yards in front of the jeep, resulting in a hailstorm of empty drums onto the road.
Quan instinctively swerved to avoid the first couple of drums entering his vision, and was forced left towards a warehouse wall. A falling drum crashed against the windshield, cracking it to the point where Quan could no longer see where he was going. Effectively blinded, he slammed on the brakes to try to avoid crashing into the wall, but couldn't. The car slammed into the wall, coming to an abrupt halt. Drums continued to crash down, several banging off the roof of the jeep.
Sarah slowed the bike to a stop a fair distance from the falling drums. The wind was in their face, and apparently not all of the drums had been empty. "Phew! What's that smell?" Sarah asked.
A barrel crashed down near the two, bursting and filling the air with liquid, splashing the two. The smell of rotten eggs was heavy in their noses.
"I'm no expert," Chuck said, spitting out a little of the liquid, "but I'm pretty sure there's sulfur involved."
Up ahead, Minh and Quan staggered from the car, and ran off towards the closest warehouse. Quan kicked the door in, and the two entered.
Sarah hopped off the bike, and quickly turned to Chuck, "Stay here!" She ran off in pursuit.
Chuck was left sitting on the bike. "Wait on the motorcycle, Chuck," he said to himself. "Well, at least it isn't a car." He tried to slide off gracefully, and promptly fell face-first into the dirt. A fair bit of the sandy soil stuck to the grease on his face.
He pushed himself to his knees and vainly tried to clean some of the grit and grime off of him. He sighed. The only way that could have been worse was if…
Up pulled the ice cream truck, Casey with a deranged grin on his face. He hopped out, and walked up to Chuck with a smile on his face. "Nice dismount. But I think the Soviet judge may deduct a few points for the landing."
"You do know the Soviet Union is gone, right?"
Casey shrugged. "If you say so."
"Would you get in there?" Casey dashed off.
Chuck picked himself up and dusted off angrily, except the dirt clung to the damp patches of what used to be a uniformly black outfit. Chuck's expression grew even more disgusted.
Scene XXXVIII – DCI Enterprises, Warehouse 1K
Sarah burst the busted door, gun drawn. It was dark in the warehouse except for some red security lights; this door apparently led to the office section of the building. A hallway ran straight ahead between a pair of low walls, but there were also small walkways running along the warehouse walls to either side. She stopped to listen for a minute and let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting; there wasn't a sound.
The door flew open behind her with a loud bang; Casey and Sarah trained their guns on each other for a moment before recognition set in. Down the main hallway, there was a sound of somebody tripping and then cursing in Vietnamese. Recognizing the location of their target, the pair moved down the hallway, Sarah on point.
They quickly came to the end of the offices, entering an open area filled with stacks of crates. Ahead and to the right, but fainter than before, they heard somebody scuff their shoe on the sealed warehouse floor. Proceeding with caution and occasionally checking behind them, they continued straight through the warehouse.
Footsteps echoed from a point directly to the right. Quan likely wasn't that clumsy, but Minh may not know how to move silently. Unfortunately, the noise could just as easily be a ploy: Quan might be laying in wait along the way. The agents moved through the maze of crates carefully, trading off point duties as one covered for the other.
Casey was on point duty when they entered a small open area, not unlike several that they had navigated prior. By his estimation, they were still a fair distance from where the footfalls were created, but they had not heard any additional noises for a few minutes. After a quick scan around the tops of the crates, Casey entered the open area, trying to cover the likely hiding spots.
As Casey scanned right, he heard quick light footsteps behind him. He knew he couldn't get his gun hand around in time, so he spun the other way and threw up his left arm, hoping to block the attack he knew was coming.
Quan launched a flying kick. Casey managed to partially deflect the attack before Quan's foot struck him in the chest, knocking him back to the ground. Before Quan could move, Sarah brought a flying kick of her own to bear, catching Quan full in the stomach. He fell back onto the ground, and held up his right hand in surrender.
Sarah approached cautiously, gun leveled at him. Apparently, Quan had injured himself somewhere along the way; he had a long gash in his leg he was holding with his left hand.
Casey was quickly on his feet again. "Where is Minh?" Casey demanded.
Back towards the entrance, Minh had made his way back around to the door they had entered. Quan was exceedingly loyal; he had led the agents off, allowing him to make his way back around to the exit. No matter; the agents would take Quan in, and Minh would find out where he was and rescue him. He had done it before. With one last pause to listen for any noise, he made his move, pulling the outer door open and rushing through.
Minh ran about ten feet from the door before the headlights and spotlights of the ice cream truck came on; he instinctively put his hands over his face to protect his eyes.
"Please do not move, Mr. Minh," Chuck said into the microphone for the speaker on the front of the truck. With a touch and the press of a button, he locked the rockets onto Minh. "You currently have a guided rocket locked onto you. I believe you had a similar system in your jeep?"
Minh's face grew defeated; he reluctantly put his hands over his head.
"Sit down, but leave your hands over your head." Minh complied.
Chuck sat in the driver's seat of the ice cream truck, feet on the dash, heat vents blasting on him as he sucked on a fudgesicle. He looked exceedingly pleased with things. He said to nobody in particular, "You know? Some times it's good to wait in the car."