Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
The boy, a skinny kid about ten or eleven years old, started running, dashing down the stairs like hell. Ash followed suit, all quietness going out the window. "Halte!", Ash yelled. "Immédiatement!"
In contrast to his father, Ash's pronunciation was fine. He had spent a very wet spring and later an ass-cold autumn in a small village in the Ardennes at the age of nine. For the rest of his life he would not forget the smell of the fields after harvest, when the farmers burnt down the rest of the crop. The heavy, soaking wet soil that squished under your feet… the thick gray mist… the pungent smoke hanging over the ancient stone buildings… in the humid heat of Port-Au-Prince it seemed light years ago. But the French he had learned back then was as present as if he had last used yesterday.
Not that Ash's perfect pronunciation slowed the boy down in any way, shape or form. With practiced agility he hurried down the dilapidated fire escape ladder, skipping over any loose rungs and carefully avoiding the sharp rusty metal pieces the construction was studded with. This was definitely not his first quick descent down these stairs.
But it was Ash's.
He did well, given that the heat, the humidity and the jet lag were taking a toll on his body in addition to the challenges the darn ladder posed. After having successfully mastered two levels, however, a missing rung, rusted away probably about a decade ago, was his downfall… in a very literal sense.
… … …
Something on Guerrero signaled, interrupting the interview they were conducting. "The second tracker", he said, checking his smartphone.
"The one you hid in Ash's shoe?", Winston asked. "So he got rid of the watch?" He checked his own watch and made a face.
Guerrero grinned.
"Yeah, you'll get your twenty bucks later", Winston grumbled.
"Told you he wouldn't need two hours." Frowning, Guerrero returned his attention to his phone's display. "He's moving pretty fast, Chance."
At this very moment they heard a mighty clanging outside that seemed to shake the whole building. "The fire escape ladder!", the secretary they had just been interrogating, exclaimed.
As one, the three men jumped to their feet and hurried out the room. This was not simply Ash sneaking away to stick it to them... something was up…
… … …
Ash knew how to fall, of course he did with all his combat training, but the blunt truth is, there is no safe way to fall down a flight of stairs, especially not when it's a dilapidated construction full of sharp metal pieces that you've been going down at full speed. He managed to protect his head and twist around so that his butt instead of his back caught most of the impact, but still. He could have easily broken his neck.
Almost miraculously he tumbled to his feet at the bottom of the fire escape ladder. A pile of organic garbage, probably from the kitchen of a restaurant in the same back alley, cushioned his landing, but still his clothes were torn in several places and underneath deep cuts turned the fabric crimson red with blood. Thank God Ilsa had insisted on the complete vaccination program, including a tetanus booster shot.
Ash, however, didn't notice. The adrenaline of the chase and the determination to catch the thief were momentarily blocking all other sensations out. Half stumbling, half already running again, Ash continued pursuing the boy down the back alley, towards one of the main streets. The fall had shortened the distance between them since Ash had, thanks to it, mastered the descent down the ladder much faster than he ever would have, had his feet actually touched the rest of the rungs. He was so close to him… only a few more feet…
The boy had reached the end of the back alley and, terrified by the big young man hot on his trail, shot straight onto the main street, neither looking left nor right.
A taptap barely missed the child, veered past him and hit a pile of building rubble. The vehicle keeled over, trapping its occupants inside. At the same time the pile of rubble became unstable, avalanched and buried the boy.
Ash immediately smelt the leaking gas. "Au secours!", he yelled, begging the bystanders for help. On his own he'd never manage to yank one of the jammed car doors open. The people inside would burn.
The bystanders were willing to help, sure enough, but this needed coordination and a somewhat expert approach, the car was heavily damaged and the gas leaking at rapid speed. One wrong move and a single spark would set everything on fire.
"Tell them we need people to lift the back of the wreck up!"
Suddenly his father was by Ash's side. Without thinking, Ash translated.
"We need the car at a 30 degree angle, tilted to the left side so that no additional gas will leak", Chance continued. Again Ash told the bystanders what to do and they followed his words without any communication problems.
With the vehicle held lopsided, Guerrero and Chance could check what exactly was causing the blocked doors. Winston came running with fire extinguishers and asbestos blankets from the branch office. Some people were bringing water in buckets to wash away the gas.
Careful maneuvering along Chance's orders, translated by Ash, took some pressure off the main metal piece that was preventing at least one of the taptap's doors from opening – the passengers crawled outside. Scared and bruised, but, miraculously, otherwise unharmed.
"The boy!", Ash cried. The wrecked car had momentarily wiped the child completely from his mind. Horrified at what he might find, he hectically rounded the now flatter pile of building rubble, followed closely by his father, Winston and Guerrero. As he reached the other side of the pile he stopped dead in his tracks.
Chance put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly.
Winston took a heavy, resigned intake of breath.
Guerrero looked at him and grinned. "That'll be another twenty bucks. Told you he'd be the one to get the job done."
Then he turned to Ash, who was still staring at the boy whose lower half was buried underneath lots of heavy rubble. Apparently, however, the rubble slip hadn't terribly hurt him. He was raining a storm of French expletives down on Ash.
"One way to catch a thief, dude", Guerrero chuckled.