Poe (2 page)

Raven.

“He must’ve taken his jacket off when we grabbed Hawk,” Duncan said, surprised. “But how could he know?”

The digital tag had keyed in on Raven’s jacket—its material, color, size—and that’s what each of the other surveillance rigs would pick up on. Without it, the spotters would have to make their own visual identification until a new tag was created.

Feeling his gut clench again, McElroy keyed his mic. “Raven is on the loose, heading east on Rue de la Huchette. All teams move in to intercept!”

The feeds from the spotters’ cameras began bouncing up and down, as the men hustled to reposition themselves so they could try to get eyes once more on Raven and assist the grab team.

McElroy barely maintained composure as he waited for someone to spot the target.

Finally, Zeta Three called in. “I’m on Huchette, east to Rue Saint-Jacques. I don’t see him anywhere.”

“He must have made it out already,” McElroy said. “Everyone fan out. Check taxis, buses, pedestrians. He’s got to be out there. We can’t let him slip through.”

But after five minutes of no further sightings, McElroy feared his instincts had been correct.

After ten, he knew it.

Raven was gone.

August 26th

Calverton, Maryland

Even the tensest situations, the sound of Deuce’s voice was reassuring. At that very moment, he was shouting breathlessly in Alexandra Poe’s wireless earpiece.

“Look alive,” he said. “He’s coming your way!”

“Good,” Alex whispered.

Barely a second later, she heard Charlie Wright’s footsteps pounding toward her down the alleyway. He was repeating something under his breath like a mantra, his tone panicked, but she couldn’t make out the words.

Then a second set of footsteps entered the far end of the alley—Deuce, his ragged breaths still in her ear as he followed Wright, cutting off any potential retreat. Wright must have heard him, too, because the mutterings became louder and more frantic. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”

It wasn’t the most original plea Alex had ever heard, but people like Wright weren’t exactly known for their creativity.

She waited until he’d closed the distance between them to a couple dozen feet, then she stepped out from behind the Dumpster and pointed her Taser at him.

“Hold it right there, Charlie.”

“Holy shit!” Wright cried.

He was big man who wouldn’t have looked out of place on the front line of a football team, so stopping wasn’t exactly a simple thing. He tried to skid to a halt, but stumbled over his own feet and fell onto the cracked asphalt.

Alex shoved her Taser into its holster as she rushed over, and then jumped onto his back, straddling him before he even had the chance to roll over. Grabbing his arms, she pulled them toward her so she could cuff his wrists with a plastic zip tie, but he suddenly shoved upward and tried to stand.

Out of sheer instinct, Alex threw an arm around his neck so she wouldn’t fall off. He clawed at it, gasping for air, and twisted around in a circle until he was able to knock her to the ground.

With a thick splash, she landed half in, half out of a muddy, water-filled pothole, groaning in pain as her left butt cheek hit the jagged edge of the pavement.

“Jesus!”

As Wright started to run again, she pushed herself back to her feet, and grabbed for her Taser, only to find that her holster was empty. The weapon must have fallen out during the rodeo ride on Wright’s back.

She scanned the ground, looking for the familiar shape.

“Dude,” Deuce yelled, “for chrissakes, stop! You are
not
doing yourself any favors!” He slowed as he came abreast of Alex. “You all right?”

“Fine,” she said, waving him on. “Just go get him!”

Deuce nodded and took off after Wright.

As Alex whipped around, still looking for her Taser, her gaze settled on the pothole she’d fallen into.

“No,” she said, hoping her instinct was wrong.

Crouching next to it, she plopped her already muddied hand into the water. A moment later, she closed her eyes and scrunched her face. “Son of a…”

She pulled the waterlogged Taser out of the puddle, and angrily shoved the now useless weapon into its holster, this time snapping the restraining strap into place. Then she lit out after Deuce and Wright.

Both men were out of sight, but she could hear Deuce still breathing heavily in her earpiece.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Turn left…at the end of the alley.”

“You still on him?”

“Ten-four.”

Maps. Directions. Layout. These were things Alex had a particular talent for. Study a map for a few moments and it would be committed to memory. So she knew it would only be a couple more minutes before Wright reached Norris Boulevard, the main drag in this little Maryland burg.

Not exactly the most discreet place for a takedown, but what choice did they have?

When she reached the end of the alley and turned left, she could see both Wright and Deuce ahead. A part of her had hoped Wright would be kneeling on the ground, out of breath, but the big man was still running, albeit at a much slower pace. Deuce, leaner and in better shape, had closed to within fifty feet of him and had his Taser out.

“Stop!” Deuce called out. “Right now!”

Ignoring the pain in her gluteus maximus, Alex sprinted down the road in a burst of speed faster than even her partner could achieve, but she was still a half block back when Wright suddenly turned and lunged toward Deuce.

Caught off guard, Deuce fired his Taser, but Alex could see that only one of the needles hit its mark. A spasm shot through the left side of Wright’s massive rib cage, but it didn’t stop him. He yanked out the needle, and made a grab for Deuce’s hand. Deuce jerked away just in time, and landed a blow to Wright’s gut with his other fist.

Wright staggered back a few feet, and then leaned forward breathing deeply, his hands on his thighs.

“On the ground!” Deuce shouted.

Wright didn’t move.

Deuce took a step closer. “I said, on the ground!”

Wright reached out and swatted at the air, in what was probably meant as a warning. Unfortunately for Deuce, Wright’s arm was as long as he was large, and the back of the big man’s palm glanced off Deuce’s chin.

Deuce stumbled back a few steps, the blow momentarily stunning him.

Wright took a tentative step forward, as if he were going to take advantage of the situation and run again.

But Alex shouted, “Not another move!”

Wright jerked in surprise and looked back. She was ten feet behind him, her inoperable Taser once more in her hand.

“On the ground,” she said.

He hesitated for a moment, then, with a sigh, lowered himself onto his knees.

As Alex moved behind him and secured his wrists, she glanced at Deuce. “You all right?”

He turned his chin toward her. “You think it’s gonna bruise?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Cool.”

Deuce wasn’t like other people.

But then neither was Alex.

* * *

Baltimore, Maryland

T
HE RIDE HOME
was uneventful. By the time they got to the station, it was nearly nine p.m.

Artie Cashman, aka Max Cash of Max Cash Bail Bond, was waiting in the lobby when Alex and Deuce escorted Wright inside.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “The giant takes a fall. What did I tell you about trying something stupid?”

Wright, not meeting his eyes, shrugged.

“Come on, Charlie, what did I
tell
you?”

Alex nudged her prisoner. “You’d better speak up.”

The big man frowned, and mumbled, “That you’d always find me.”

“That’s right.” Max beamed. “And guess what? I did.”

Alex could have argued the point, since the only thing Max had provided was an address that turned out to be bogus, but in the grand scheme he was close enough. Charlie had gone rabbit and gotten his tail clipped. And Max was just lucky that Alex and Deuce had been available to do the clipping.

“Let’s get you checked in,” Alex said.

Max seemed to notice her for the first time. “I see he put up a fight, huh?”

Alex glanced down at her muddied shirt and pants. “No, I always dress this way. Helps me blend in with the losers.”

“I think it’s working,” Max said.

He had already briefed the police before Alex and Deuce arrived, so the transfer of the prisoner went smooth as silk.

Once Wright was off their hands, Max told them, “Come by the office tomorrow and I’ll write you a check.”

Deuce chuckled, but Alex narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t even try,” she said.

Max spread his hands. “What? You can come first thing in the morning.” He looked at his watch. “That’s less than twelve hours from now.”

“Max.”

“Come on, Alex. You think I carry my checkbook everywhere I go?”

“You
know
the rule.”

It was simple: payment on delivery. No exceptions.

He huffed as he pushed a hand into his pocket. “Fine, here.” He pulled out a check, and handed it to her. “Buy yourself a garden hose, spray off some of that crud.”

She wasn’t surprised to see it was already filled out. Max was a notorious skinflint, and more times than not Alex had to play this little game with him.

She nodded at Deuce, and they turned to leave.

“Hey,” Max said, “I still want you to come by tomorrow. There’s a hearing in the morning and I have a feeling my guy isn’t gonna show. If that happens, I want to jump on it right—”

“We’re busy tomorrow.” A lie, but Alex wasn’t in the mood to pick up Max’s trash twice in a row. “Come on, Deuce.”

Deuce clapped Max on the back. “See ya, dude.”

“I’m serious,” Max said as they walked away. “Tomorrow, okay?”

Without looking back, she said, “Not gonna happen.”

“Come on, Alex, is that any way to treat one of your best—”

“Alexandra Poe?”

She had reached the door and started to push it open, but that stopped her. She turned toward the voice.

Smiling at her from a dozen feet away was a well-groomed man in a dark gray Armani suit. Mid to late thirties, possibly forty, but not much more, and in decent shape. She wouldn’t have called him attractive, but he was passable.

A lawyer
, she thought, or something along those lines.

She smirked, then went outside, Deuce trailing behind. She was tired and just wanted to take a hot shower and crawl into bed.

She heard the door open behind them as they walked toward the parking lot.

“You
are
Alexandra Poe, correct?”

Growing annoyed, she quickened her pace.

“I just need a moment of your time.”

“Set it up with my secretary,” she said as she pulled out her key fob, and aimed it at her Jeep. With a push of a button, the locks popped open.

Deuce circled around to the passenger side, while Alex pulled open the driver’s door and climbed in. When she tried to pull it closed, the man in the Armani suit grabbed hold of it, stopping her.

“You’re about to lose that hand,” she said.

He didn’t budge. “I know it’s probably not a good time.”

“You figured that out on your own? Let go of the fucking door.”

With his free hand, he removed a business card from his pocket, and held it out. “When you get a moment, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call.”

Alex wrenched the door free from his grasp, but just before she could close it, he tossed the card inside. The locks clunked down as she hit the dash button, then she started the engine, punched the gas, and left him standing in the parking lot.

Deuce said, “Looks like the wolves are circling again.”

Alex looked over and saw that he’d somehow gotten hold of the business card. He turned it so she could see it.

Taking up the entire left side of the card was an all-too-familiar logo:
STONEWELL ASSOCIATES
.

The man’s name, however, was new to her.

Jason McElroy.

She grabbed the card out of Deuce’s hand, crumpled it, and tossed it into the back.

Deuce snickered. “I take it you won’t be calling him?”

“Not without a gun pointed at my head.”

She didn’t get
the alarm to stop shrieking until the second try. Clipping a hand against the clock radio, she hit the snooze button, groaned, and rolled onto her back.

She should have turned the thing off last night, when it was clear she couldn’t sleep, but she’d been too preoccupied with the thought of that asshole from Stonewell to do anything sensible.

This wasn’t the first time Alex had been approached by the organization. Stonewell was a top-tier defense contractor, and for whatever reason, they seemed to think she should be working for them. She suspected it had less to do with her skills than with the way she looked, being half Iranian and all. Her dark hair and mixed-race features would make it easy for her to pass for a number of different nationalities, which could be quite useful to an international operation like Stonewell.

Alex pushed the covers to the side, sat up, and made sure the alarm was off for good.

To hell with them. She was fine with the way things were, thank you. She was her own boss, could pass on assignments she wasn’t interested in, could even take off and do nothing for a month or more if she wanted to. Not that she ever did, but knowing she could was all that mattered.

She stood up, still angry, thinking that if Mr. Jason McElroy hadn’t grabbed her door like an overaggressive lunatic, she could have brushed it off. That’s what had really set her teeth on edge. Her personal space was very important to her.

More than one person had learned that the hard way.

She thought about taking a shower, but what she really needed was to work this crap out of her system, so she pulled some clothes on, grabbed her gym bag, and headed for the door.

* * *

A
CKERMAN’S GYM WAS
located in a middle-class Baltimore neighborhood that was once good, had gone bad, and was now transitioning back the other way.