The Rescue(33)

“I’m not worried about losing this bet,” he said, adjusting the telephoto lens.

“Ready?” she said.

“Do it.”

She eased the car through the empty space, turning toward the street.

“Stop!” said Decker, and she hit the brakes.

Two men burst out of Ares Aviation, heading for the silver SUV. Decker snapped two pictures, then lowered the camera. “Get us out of here.”

“That’s it for the pictures?” she said, her foot still on the brake. “We’re going to need more than that to run through the facial recognition program.”

“We can skip that step,” said Decker. “I know the face.”

“Seriously?”

“Without a doubt,” said Decker. “Can we leave now? This guy is bad news.”

She accelerated out of the parking lot. Decker sounded more concerned about the guy in the SUV than he had about snatching Penkin away from a dozen heavily armed Bratva soldiers. The stark difference frightened her.

With her eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, Harlow floored the accelerator, rocketing the car away from Ares Aviation. A few seconds later, the silver SUV careened onto the road behind them. Decker twisted in his seat, positioning himself to watch their pursuers.

“I need your pistol,” said Decker.

“No, you don’t.”

“They’re closing. We’re about ten seconds away from a gunfight.”

“Trust me,” said Harlow, turning her attention back to the road ahead of them.

“Is this car bulletproof?”

“Funny. Just keep watching.”

“Dammit, Harlow. This is serious!” said Decker.

“You don’t think I know that?”

“I don’t—” he started. “Holy crap. What was that?”

She glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see the SUV swerve into a light post. The remote-controlled spike strip had already retracted to the base station Katie had placed next to the road.

“A very expensive piece of gear,” she said. “That I won’t get back.”

“I’ve never seen one of those used live. Impressive.”

“Me, neither,” said Harlow. “Never needed it before.”

A minivan pulled out of a lot ahead of them, Katie’s face momentarily visible through the driver’s window. Harlow smirked, not wanting to tip off Decker. The less he knew about her tight network of assistants, the better. Harlow would sooner die than betray any of their identities. They were all victims, directly or indirectly, of the sex-trafficking industry—drawn to her agency by a single, focused desire to make a difference.

“We need to go off the grid in Los Angeles or get out of the city altogether,” said Decker.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” said Decker. “I don’t know the guy’s real name. I knew him from the CIA. Gunther Ross. A pure sociopath. I bumped heads with him at a few of the black sites I was assigned to protect. Some really dark stuff went down on his watch. I heard he went to work for Aegis. Figured it was a match made in heaven.”

“How deep can Aegis look into my business and life?”

“All the way through it,” said Decker.

“I know how to disappear in this city.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve living under a tarp in Skid Row.”

She checked the rearview mirror. Two swiftly receding men stood in the middle of the street next to the crippled SUV, one of them holding binoculars.

“It’s a few steps up from Skid Row,” she said. “And you’ll appreciate the irony of your surroundings.”

“I can’t wait,” he said.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Gunther entered Ares Aviation’s air-conditioned office, barely containing the homicidal rage brewing behind his fake smile. He needed to clean this place out quickly, before someone reported the damaged and obviously stranded SUV, linking it to their visit to Ares Aviation.

“Justin?” he said impatiently.

Justin stepped into the doorway leading to the back of the office. “You’re back,” he said. “Did you catch them?”

“Yes. We couldn’t have done it without you,” said Gunther, placing a leather satchel on the counter. “Are the camera feeds stored here or transmitted to a remote location?”

“It’s all kept here. In back. The hard drive stores thirty days of continuous video.”

“Can you show me?” said Gunther. “I’ll need to submit that as evidence. We’ll get a replacement hard drive here within the hour.”

“Sure. It’s in the same room as the security monitor.”

“I can take care of it,” said Gunther. “Unfortunately, I’m going to need you, too. You’re not in trouble, but I need to conduct a quick search of your vehicle.”

“Why would you need to do that?”

“Either we do it or the FAA does it. Standard procedure in a case like this. Trust me. You don’t want the FAA involved. It’ll eat up a vacation day.”

“I guess,” said Justin. “Sounds kind of odd.”

“They bring in the dogs, unzip cushions, take apart the engine. The full bureaucratic treatment. I just give the car a quick look and write that up in my initial report. Satisfies their protocol every time.”