Trev
The girl slid the magazine home and pulled the charge handle. I pressed the button on the stopwatch, "Under three minutes," I said, "Good, but I can do better."
"Knowledge of M16-series rifles," Lyn wrote down, "What could they possibly use a teenage girl in for all of this to be necessary?"
"Think about it," I said, "Who would suspect a young punk snot-nosed kid to be a mass murderer?" I turned to The Kid, "No offense," I signed.
She just shrugged. Despite clear evidence of her understanding us, she still couldn't speak. I wanted to get her in front of a trained medical professional. Then again, when one of the pieces of this "Enemy Allaince," as Lyn called it (I was partial to Council of Soon-to-be-Dead-Mothers) was a major Pharmaceutical company, hospitals are out of the question.
"How do you get all of this stuff, anyway?" Lyn asked.
"It's Miami, the smuggling capital of the world," I said, "If it's illegal, I could probably find it here."
"And what could you possibly need a rocket launcher with an attached assault rifle?" she asked.
"A: that's a recoiless rifle," big fudgin lie, I thought as my phone rang, "B: Because it's awesome. Talk."
"I got five po-po cars coming out like a bat outta hell," it was one of the gang-bangers I employed as scouts to give me warning.
"We've been made!" I shouted.
"How long?" Lyn asked, grabbing her go-bag.
"Five minutes tops," I said, "You go on foot, they're not looking for you."
"What about you?" She said.
"I'll be fine," I said and grabbed the keys to the Mustang, "Looking Glass Key, there's a ship, the Beckett's Justice, it has enough supplies to get you to Mexico. Once you're there, find Alejandro Riviero, tell him that Marcos sent you and he'll hook you up with fake papers. Go from there. I'll find you!"
I rushed out. In the movies, she gives you a kiss for luck. We didn't have time for that. I'm not even sure she felt that way. I just new one thing. I had to buy them time.
I waited until I heard the sirens. I started the car. I waited another heartbeat. I saw Lyn leading the kid away, duffel bag in her hand. She looked back at me. I nodded. So did she. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.
My safe house went up in smoke.
The explosion wasn't spectacular like in the movies. There was a flash of light, the glass broke, and smoke started to flow out the window.
Horatio didn't brake stride as he called in Fire and Rescue and pursued the green Mustang.
The car raced through the streets. It was the hour preceding rush-hour. The early leavers were all going home, putting enough cars to worry the police yet not enough to slow Pierce down enough.
Pierce wove through the traffic with ease in his powerful Mustang. Horatio was at a disadvantage. His Hummer was too large to follow him directly. The three squadcars passed him and the black SUV used by Cobry.
The first squad car pulled alongside his left rear wheel. The next pulled alongside his front right. On the radio command, the two cars would slam into him and spin him too a stop.
Pierce slammed his brakes at the last second. The cars over shot him. He gunned it, his engine growling angrily. The Mustang rammed the rear squadcar at an oblique angle, pushbars absorbing the impact, causing him to spin into the side of the road. The front squadcar continued into the left lane, the driver obviously focused on stabilizing his vehicle. Pierce raced ahead of him.
Horatio grimly remembered that some SEALs received offensive and defensive driving training.
The four remaining vehicles gunned it. The two remaining squadcars pulled over to his sides. Cobry gunned it and managed to pull in front of Pierce. Horatio raced to close the rear. The road gently turned right.
Pierce gunned his engine and swung left, into both the squadcar and the SUV. He pressed into the weakpoint, almost dragging the squadcar with him. He the swung right, throwing the squadcar into a lightpole. He pulled ahead once more.
"He's heading South Dixie Highway!" someone shouted on the radio.
The civilians were getting more numerous. Horatio nearly ran into a truck that didn't heed the sirens. He shouted at them to move.
Pierce pulled to the middle. He gunned the engine again and outraced all the civillians. He slowed down to traffic speed when he reached a good gap between him and most of the other drivers.
Cobry took the bait. He pulled along the right of Pierce's car. He swung his car at him.
Pierce slammed his brakes, and Cobry overshot. Right into the yellow Volkswagen Beetle next to Pierce. The collision stalled his momentum, and screwed his balance. The SUV tipped slightly and the little car got under it. The little car's momentum pushed his SUV onto it's side.
It's possible to absolutely hate physics.
Horatio and the other car hung back, waiting for reinforcements. Pierce turned off the highway, and headed northeast. A helicopter loomed overhead.
"All units be advised, Suspect is headed to the Trail Glades Range."
That was bad. With the tree cover, it would be impossible for the helicopter to track him if he turned onto one of the uncountable back roads.
But Horatio had the advantage. His Hummer could take the off-roads better than the Mustang.
The building thinned, and they were soon on open road. The Trail Glades Range, a motley assortment of wooded areas and swamp, loomed not to far off. Neither did the two car roadblock set up by the MDPD.
Pierce hit his brake. The squadcar behind him veered right, missing him. Pierce drifted right, gunned his engine. He slammed into the rear of the car. His engine growled angrily as he used the squadcar to smash the roadblock, veering out at the last second.
Horatio continued the pursuit.
Pierce suddenly veered off the main road, into the tree cover. Horatio veered behind him.
Pierce had made a mistake. His Mustang was fishtailing, bouncing around on the harsh road. The Hummer was taking it in stride. Horatio pressed on.
The road took a sharp turn right. Pierce accelerated, and veered, unable to gain purchase. His car turned but continue path. He t-boned a tree on the side of the road.
Horatio slammed his brakes. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn't noticed his speedometer. His tires couldn't gain enough purchase to stop. It rammed into Pierce's Mustang. The airbag exploded.
His glasses were broken. Another crime Pierce committed.
Horatio tried the handle on his door. It was jammed, but only loosely, he slammed his shoulder into it. It hurt, but the thing opened.
He drew his weapon and trained it on the car. It was a wreck, but the cab was largely intact.
"Pierce!" he shouted, "Come out with-"
Something slamed into Horatio. He hit the Hummer. Pierce grabbed Horatio's gun arm and slammed it against the vehicle. The weapon fell out of his hands.
Horatio hooked his arm around the back of Pierce's neck threw him into the Hummer's body. Pierce tried to push off. Horatio pressed him against it. Pierce grunted, "Why try so hard?"
"Where is she?" Horatio growled.
Pierce spun and hooked Horatio with his elbow. Horatio saw stars, "Who?" Pierce said, "I haven't hurt your people beyond a concussion."
Horatio tackled him and slammed him back against the Hummer, driving the breath out of Pierce. He threw him to the ground, "You took one of my people last night."
Pierce rolled to avoid Horatio's kick. He got to his feet and cracked his neck, "I had my own problems to deal with. I don't need more."
Horatio's sidearm was equidistant from them. Horatio was taller. But Pierce was younger, faster, and infinitely more trained.
"What is this about?" Horatio demanded, "Why here? Why Miami? Why my people?"
"Not your people!" he shouted, "It was never about you or Patriks or Miami or anyone else but those who framed me!"
"What?"
"The ones who killed Patriks!" he shouted, "The ones who take teenage girls and fuck their minds up and bring them into my life of darkness! The ones who kidnap and experiment and assassinate and don't give a damn about who gets hurt!"
"Where is Natalia?" he demanded.
"I don't know!" Pierce shouted, "There is one more man. The last one with the whole picture, the one with all of the dirt. He has her. The one they call 'Price'. The one my prisoners called 'Price'."
"Am I supposed to believe that?"
Pierce took a deep breath. His voice was hoarse from the shouting, "No," he shook his head, "But it's true. And I am the only one who can find your girl. But I want a promise from you."
"..."
"My two friends, they're leaving the US today. They're probably not coming back. But the wrap up investigation will shine light on them. They will become targets for every alphabet soup on the planet. When this mess is wrapped, keep that spotlight off of them. Let hide, and find some peace."
Horatio was speechless. Part of him said that Pierce was a liar, a trained liar. These associates of his would come back and get him out. Or plan their revenge.
Part of him believed that Pierce wanted this to end today. That Pierce was good on his word.
Pierce turned and walked into the swamp. Horatio picked up his weapon. He looked at it. He looked at Pierce. He said, "Pierce is a fake name, isn't it?"
Pierce stopped, "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Because the real Pierce was from Texas," Horatio said, "Your accent is Midwestern."
Pierce paused, "My name's Jon. Without the H."
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