CHAPTER 3 – CHASE
Sierra had been asleep for all of twenty minutes when her phone beeped. It was on emergency alert only. She groaned. What had happened now? Turner was gone, she had no known associates... She answered the phone.
"Sierra," she said groggily.
"Urgent mission," said a male voice that she didn't recognise. "Richard Castle taken by unknown, likely related to previous task. Retrieve immediately."
"What? I thought we were watching his place!"
"Affirmative. Suspicious vehicle seen leaving one minute ago."
"But if they were watching why didn't they stop it?"
"Units not tasked with intercepting; surveillance only."
"Shit! So, I follow them. Is Victor coming?"
"Negative. No resources. Possible blown cover."
"Crap. So I have to steal a car, again?"
"Any means necessary. Maintain disguise."
"But if they made Victor won't they have made me too?"
"Negative. Maintain disguise."
"Bloody hell," she said into the phone, pulling on some clothes and throwing her kit into a bag. "Can you give me the tracking information?"
"Affirmative. Sending now."
She looked at the phone; it took a few seconds to download the tracking information from the surveillance unit. She swept the room just in case, but there was very little risk, then picked the lock to the maintenance staircase and hurried straight down to the underground parking.
She chose a sleek black Porsche – what was the point of staying in a fancy hotel if you didn't take advantage of the fancy guests? - and had it going in moments. She set up her phone on the dash; she was ten minutes away from the target. She floored it, dodging around the traffic. What did they even want with that idiot? And who were they? Turner hadn't had anyone...
She caught up with the surveillance vehicle; at least they hadn't screwed up tailing; and took over. He was in a grubby white van being driven by a total maniac. She opened her window at threw on a GPS tracker – one of the few spy gadgets that were used both in real life and in moves. They were going for the moving bridge. Fuck. The van broke through the barrier and just made it; Sierra would have no chance. She cursed again, then waited impatiently. She watched the GPS signal, they were heading out of the city.
After what seemed like an eternity the bridge went down – but she was so far behind now! She drove even more recklessly than before, cursing herself, cursing idiot Castle for getting himself caught...
She still wasn't with them as she left the city, but she was getting closer. They had stopped moving, which helped. She wondered what on earth was going on. But there was a problem. She had a horrible feeling she had a tail, and she couldn't shake it without losing precious time in getting to Castle.
…
Rick blinked, shaking the freezing water out of his eyes. He groaned. He had a splitting headache, he was in a dark room, handcuffed, and tied to a straight backed wooden chair. A basement? He couldn't see any windows... There was someone else in there. He wasn't hiding his face. Rick cursed inwardly. That meant they were going to kill him.
"What do you know about Sophia Turner?"
The guy had a slight accent – Russian? He was also really, really ugly. Rick almost laughed. The guy took out a knife. Rick winced as the knife touched his bare chest – he was dressed only in boxer shorts.
"I do not want to ask you again."
Rick wondered what to say. He decided to be slow. Slow was how to survive. Maybe someone would know he was missing..? Yeah, like who? Sophia? Oh, right, yeah, the one who'd been escorted away from him at gunpoint by an MI6 agent. So, really slow.
"She's, ah, she works for the CIA?"
That earned him a punch to the gut. He gritted his teeth.
"She's hot-"
Another punch. But he was still alive. Alive was good.
"What do you know about what happened to her tonight?"
He groaned.
"She, ah... we were together. And then she left."
"She left?"
"Yeah. She was with me, then she left. Look, I don't know what you want with me but I'm a famous author, and I don't think it would be in your interest to hurt-"
He doubled over in pain at the third punch, letting out a moan of agony.
"I know. You are Richard Castle. My boss, he hates your books. And we are not popular; we do not need to maintain an image of not hurting celebrities. If you do not know anything else," the knife stroked his Adam's apple, "there is no use for you."
"No, wait! She left with someone."
"Ah, she did? Who?"
"I don't know. A woman. A woman with a gun."
The man was suddenly hanging on his every word.
"What did she look like?"
"Uh, she was young. Hot. So hot. Like-"
There was a pop, and the man's face exploded.
"Like that..." Rick breathed. Sierra took the handcuff keys out of the now-dead man's pocket and set Rick free. She then grabbed his arm and dragged him from the room. He didn't even bother to ask her what was going on. She hurried him up some stairs and outside, then bundled him into the passenger seat of a beautiful Porsche. She was in her seat in the blink of an eye, and then they were moving again, still away from the city.
"Wait, what the he-"
He was cut off by the sound of gunfire behind them.
"Shit! Duck down!"
Rick complied, curling up in the foot well. Sierra drove faster, cursing. Then she addressed him.
"Can you drive?"
"Yeah..."
"Okay, take the wheel." Sierra yanked a machine gun out of her bag and wound down her side window. She stood up, feet still on the pedals. Rick grabbed the wheel, not knowing whether to be turned on or terrified by their proximity.
"Get into the seat. And whatever happens, DO NOT STOP. Got it?"
Without waiting for an answer she shifted so there was room for him to scoot under her. She was almost on his lap, though her upper body was nearly all out of the window. She began shooting at whatever it was behind them. Rick was sure he was dreaming. After a surprisingly short time he heard an explosion, and Sierra rolled back into the car and into the passenger seat.
"Pull over at the next place there are cars parked," she said, a slight hitch in her voice. Rick looked at her and saw that she was bleeding.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine. Eyes on the road, writer boy."
Rick shook his head. This had to be the weirdest night ever. He was just on a high to still be alive. And then he realised Sierra was taking her shirt off. She delved in her bag and pulled out a bandage, which she proceeded to wrap around the graze on her arm. She put the shirt back on and Rick gave himself a shake.
"So. Would you mind telling me what that was all about?"
Sierra sighed. "You get to a garage. We switch cars. I drive us somewhere safe. And then I will explain as much as you need to know."
Rick began to get annoyed. "Earlier tonight, you led my girlfriend away at gunpoint. And then I was kidnapped, beaten up, shot at, and forced to drive this car-"
"Oh, come on, you're enjoying it."
She was laughing?
"How can you be laughing? You were just shot at! And hit!"
"It's just a scrape. You get used to it. And I'm laughing at the absurdity."
"What absurdity?"
"A simple mission. One job. In an out. But somehow life never seems to work like that. And now I'm stuck babysitting you."
"Didn't you just blow up the bad guys?"
"I have a feeling there'll be more."
"Right."
They drove on in silence. Sierra kept an eye on her phone, and also on the rear view mirror. Rick just tried to drive. He was becoming more aware of the fact that he was only wearing underwear. He was also beginning to feel the acute pain in his gut now the adrenaline was wearing off. Sierra seemed to read his mind.
"When we stop I'll give you something for the pain."
"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "Oh, by the way, did you kill Sophia?"
Sierra sighed. "She was going to kill you. And she was a huge international threat."
"Why did the Russians want to know about her?"
"Because she's Russian."
"What?"
"You heard. Look, later. And there's a garage. Pull over."
He did so and she got out of the car.
"Think you can sit tight while I go buy you a shirt?"
Rick nodded. Sierra hurried into the shop and bought some biscuits, water, an I-heart-NY t-shirt, sweats and a pair of flip flops. When she came out, Rick was sitting in the car looking completely dazed. Poor guy. She threw the clothes at him and took her bag out of the car.
"Come on. We're switching."
She scanned the lot and selected an inconspicuous navy suburban.
"You're going to steal a car?" he breathed. She winked.
"Oh, but can't you steal a cool one. The Porsche..." he said sadly.
"Sorry, writer boy, got to be under the radar. This'll be better."
She hot wired the engine and they were soon on the road again. Rick fell asleep in the passenger seat; Sierra envied him. She would have to drive for another couple of hours at least before it was safe to stop.
Thanks for reading these three chapters, please review! And I wonder who 'Sierra' is...
Z
