First Mutant
By David D. Amaya
Chapter 11
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Kordel Nichols Apartment, Adams-Morgan, DC 1807 EST. Day 18
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Kicking open the door to his home, Kordel Nichols found that all was not as he had left it.
It had been only about an hour after the initial report about his 'involvement' with Cyrus' kidnapping, but apparently the Service was a bit too preoccupied to search his home yet.
After checking all three rooms he found, sure enough several large wrapped bundles of money sitting on the kitchen table and four large manila envelopes on his coffee table, just as the telephone rang.
And that has to be the 'planted' telephone message, thought Kordel as the answering machine picked up. This may have been planed, but they are executing very sloppy.
"Kordel," started the distorted voice. "As promised we delivered the money as well as the fake IDs, credit cards, badges, passports, and other documents you requested. Now all we need is the word and your brilliant plan will go smoothly ..."
He then picked up the phone.
"Smoothly you say? This passport does not look a thing like me!"
"Nichols!? How did you ... ?"
"I guess your satellite provider does not get CNN. Your welcoming committee went for a swim in the Anacosta. Oh, and thank you for the cash advance, my landlord does not accept American Express. Now, where is Cyrus Parkman!!!"
"You will be reunited with the little mutie in short order, Agent Nichols. Your death would have made things go easier, but I do so prefer the challenge!" with that retort the line went dead.
Kordel grabbed the envelopes, and went upstairs to his bedroom.
He tossed the envelopes to the floor then overturned his bed. Lifting the loose floorboards from underneath, he reached into the opening and pulled out a shotgun and several boxes of government-issue 12-gauge shells and a large stuffed gym bag.
Then he went into his study and reached behind the portrait of the Boston Tea Party, and opened the wall safe behind it.
Inside he grabbed a bulletproof vest and several extra clips for his Sig Sower, preloaded with illegally striated, Teflon-coated rounds, they went by only one name on the mean streets of the nation's capital.
Cop Killers.
Then, grabbed an old hockey-gear bag, he stuffed everything inside it.
Reaching back inside the safe, he then retrieved the last thing he would need.
The tracking device he was going to use to locate Cyrus.
I hated to lie to him like that. But if he knew the pendant on the necklace I gave him had a homing beacon, he would have never taken it.
Activating the device, it showed a strong signal southeast, out of Washington.
Hang on Cyrus.
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X-Men Blackbird, En route to Washington, 1831 EST.
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"Have you located Agent Nichols?"
"Yes," the Phoenix replied, her eyes closed in deep concentration. "He's headed out of Washington headed south on Suitland Parkway ... He seems to know were he's headed ... Wait ... I'm sensing something ... a signal of some sort ... That's it! Cyclops, he has a tracking device with him! It's pointing southeast of the city."
"He must have given Cyrus a homing beacon," said Cyclops. "Banshee, can you pick up that signal?"
"Aye, Cyclops, I have it," he said. " 'Tis originating near Andrews Air Force base in Maryland. The signal is strong and stationary. I'm feedin' the coordinates through to the navigation computer."
"Professor, we have located Agent Nichols and he appears to have a tracking device with him," said Storm. "We are changing course to follow the signal."
"Be cautious, my X-Men. A news report just said that an all-points bulletin has been issued for Agent Nichols," said Xavier. "They must now believe him a suspect in the abduction of the President's son."
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Agent Nichols' 1965 Mustang, Southbound on St Bornanas Rd, 1832 EST.
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" ... Nichols is described as 6' 1" 171 lbs., with black hair and blue eyes. He is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. He is driving a midnight black 1965 Ford Mustang, Massachusetts license plate number ... "
So much for using my badge to assist me, he thought as he pulled off to Brinkley.
The signal was getting stronger.
Hold on Cyrus.
End of Chapter Eleven
© David D. Amaya 2007