Dancing with the Dragon (2002) by Joe - Dalton Weber, Sullivan 02
Authors: Joe - Dalton Weber, Sullivan 02
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"Chauncey 'arrington, FBI. We 'ave been instructed to escort you to our district 'eadquarters."
This doesn't feel right, Merrick told herself. The revelation dawned with gut-wrenching clarity when she glanced at their Mercury and noticed the rental-car sticker on the back bumper. Don't panic, for God's sake. These guys are imposters, probably the same ones who caused Earlywine's death. Think before you do anything
"May we 'elp with your luggage, ma'am?" The mischievous smile remained the same--cheesy and insincere.
Merrick could feel the palms of her hands turning sweaty. Who are these people?"That's okay," she said, remembering that Jackie had specifically told her not to go near her car. Well, I have to take a chance. "I'll just throw them in my car and follow you to your, ah, office."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we 'ave strict orders to-drive you to our headquarters. It's standard policy, you understand."
Merrick was afraid to make a move. How did they know? There must have been a wiretap, a bug in my room. "I can't leave my car here."
The Oriental opened his suit jacket just enough to expose the handgun in his shoulder holster. There was no way out. The hotel parking lot was completely deserted.
I have to do something, but I have to pick the right time. With her heart in her throat, she silently prayed. Dear God, I need some help. "Would one of you gentlemen be kind enough to drive my car?"
"Of course." Harrington looked at his partner and nodded. "If you'll 'and us the keys, we'll be on our merry way."
If I try to run, they could easily shoot me.
"Ma'am, the keys," Harrington said.
With a great sense of trepidation, Merrick fished her keys out of her handbag. She handed them to the silent man and then picked up her two leather bags. With Harrington on one side of her and the other man slightly behind her, Merrick waited for an opportunity to draw attention. Harrington opened the back door of the Mercury and stepped aside as Merrick tossed her bags in the backseat and got in.
"Don't you want to know which car is mine?" Merrick asked, feeling a surge of adrenaline stab her heart.
Harrington's smile faded but quickly reappeared. "Indeed, that would be quite 'elpful, now, wouldn' it?"
"The gray Chevy Cavalier next to the end of the first row." With a wave of his hand, Harrington directed his partner toward Merrick's rental car.
She knew what to do, but it would take some luck. They knew which car was mine.
Harrington got in and started the Mercury. The other man retrieved Merrick's car and drew up behind the Grand Marquis. Leading the way down Highway 101 toward the Santa Ynez Mountains, Harrington remained quiet while Merrick nervously looked for a police car. She had to cause a commotion, anything to draw attention to her plight.
Nearing Santa Barbara, Merrick felt a pain in her chest. She reached inside one of her bags beside her on the backseat. A weight lifter and marathon runner, she would have to use her physical conditioning to escape. "What do you think of your new director of the FBI--what's his name?"
"Don't know--'aven't 'ad the opportunity to meet the gentleman."
Merrick began to ease her hand out of her bag. Wait for the right opportunity. You need to draw attention, not get yourself killed.
The Mercury rounded the curve northwest of the Amtrak train station. Out of the dark, a California Highway Patrol cruiser appeared from behind and accelerated past the two cars. It was time to act. She tightly gripped each end of a sturdy braided belt and flipped it over Harrington's head, then yanked as hard as she could.
He gasped and struggled like a man who knew he was about to die. His feet alternately mashed the accelerator and the brake, resulting in a lurching and swaying ride. Releasing the steering wheel to use both hands to claw at the belt, Harrington choked and gagged. Merrick pulled as hard as she could. Without warning, she felt something snap and he went limp. The Grand Marquis ran
"Chauncey 'arrington, FBI. We 'ave been instructed to escort you to our district 'eadquarters."
This doesn't feel right, Merrick told herself. The revelation dawned with gut-wrenching clarity when she glanced at their Mercury and noticed the rental-car sticker on the back bumper. Don't panic, for God's sake. These guys are imposters, probably the same ones who caused Earlywine's death. Think before you do anything
"May we 'elp with your luggage, ma'am?" The mischievous smile remained the same--cheesy and insincere.
Merrick could feel the palms of her hands turning sweaty. Who are these people?"That's okay," she said, remembering that Jackie had specifically told her not to go near her car. Well, I have to take a chance. "I'll just throw them in my car and follow you to your, ah, office."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we 'ave strict orders to-drive you to our headquarters. It's standard policy, you understand."
Merrick was afraid to make a move. How did they know? There must have been a wiretap, a bug in my room. "I can't leave my car here."
The Oriental opened his suit jacket just enough to expose the handgun in his shoulder holster. There was no way out. The hotel parking lot was completely deserted.
I have to do something, but I have to pick the right time. With her heart in her throat, she silently prayed. Dear God, I need some help. "Would one of you gentlemen be kind enough to drive my car?"
"Of course." Harrington looked at his partner and nodded. "If you'll 'and us the keys, we'll be on our merry way."
If I try to run, they could easily shoot me.
"Ma'am, the keys," Harrington said.
With a great sense of trepidation, Merrick fished her keys out of her handbag. She handed them to the silent man and then picked up her two leather bags. With Harrington on one side of her and the other man slightly behind her, Merrick waited for an opportunity to draw attention. Harrington opened the back door of the Mercury and stepped aside as Merrick tossed her bags in the backseat and got in.
"Don't you want to know which car is mine?" Merrick asked, feeling a surge of adrenaline stab her heart.
Harrington's smile faded but quickly reappeared. "Indeed, that would be quite 'elpful, now, wouldn' it?"
"The gray Chevy Cavalier next to the end of the first row." With a wave of his hand, Harrington directed his partner toward Merrick's rental car.
She knew what to do, but it would take some luck. They knew which car was mine.
Harrington got in and started the Mercury. The other man retrieved Merrick's car and drew up behind the Grand Marquis. Leading the way down Highway 101 toward the Santa Ynez Mountains, Harrington remained quiet while Merrick nervously looked for a police car. She had to cause a commotion, anything to draw attention to her plight.
Nearing Santa Barbara, Merrick felt a pain in her chest. She reached inside one of her bags beside her on the backseat. A weight lifter and marathon runner, she would have to use her physical conditioning to escape. "What do you think of your new director of the FBI--what's his name?"
"Don't know--'aven't 'ad the opportunity to meet the gentleman."
Merrick began to ease her hand out of her bag. Wait for the right opportunity. You need to draw attention, not get yourself killed.
The Mercury rounded the curve northwest of the Amtrak train station. Out of the dark, a California Highway Patrol cruiser appeared from behind and accelerated past the two cars. It was time to act. She tightly gripped each end of a sturdy braided belt and flipped it over Harrington's head, then yanked as hard as she could.
He gasped and struggled like a man who knew he was about to die. His feet alternately mashed the accelerator and the brake, resulting in a lurching and swaying ride. Releasing the steering wheel to use both hands to claw at the belt, Harrington choked and gagged. Merrick pulled as hard as she could. Without warning, she felt something snap and he went limp. The Grand Marquis ran
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