Rescuing a Kidnapping Victim, Less than Legally

I had to make one other pair of stops before I pulled the Bullette, sans lights, into a warehouse belonging to a mostly defunct shipping company. I feel like it’s a good staging area. Far enough to not be suspicious, but close enough to be able to strike out from it. And, most importantly, absent any expected security. I call and check in with Marty, who’s in the overlook with Keighlee. “All good?” I ask, intentionally vaguely, in case anyone is listening. I would prefer no evidence that Marty is involved in what will inevitably be a shitshow for us, the gang task force, and IA to sort out.

“Comfy and safe,” he replies, getting the message.

“Keep it that way, everything will be gravy in no time,” I say, before adding, “And then we can visit Sarge in the hospital and yell at her about taking risks.”

“Don’t worry, that was already on the tomorrow docket.” Then, after a brief pause, he adds, “Wait, are you just saying that so you can flirt with mini-Sarge? Because you already promised not to.”

I hear the faint hum of vehicles pulling into the now open garage. “Sorry, can’t talk more. Got business to take care of.” And I hang up as I hear my partner taking a deep breath in before his spiel of expletives.

I make my way over, opening the door for the group who are clearly not on great terms. Quincy and Jess both brought a handful of guys. Less than I would have maybe liked, but a manageable amount. Tension is high. I don’t see the kid from earlier. Good. Means they’re serious. In fact, I don’t see any new members of the ‘Ken. These are old school. She’s bringing people who at least were around in the aftermath of the fall of the WBC. No one is going to be making a move on her side. Quincy brought along Davis, who will keep the kids in line. I lead Quincy and Jess into the other room.

“So, what’s the plan on killing them once and for all?” Jess asks.

“Wait,” Quincy interjects, “You told her who we’re after?”

“Yes,” I state, then start to explain the plan, “So, the Cartel is holed up in a relatively newly acquired warehouse here,” I say, gesturing to a makeshift map I sketched out on a table with sand from some of the sandbags in the back. Not the cleanest, but no evidence later on.

Quincy nods. He was going to object until he heard me say Cartel. He was around back then, and knows well that he might have gotten a bit rash had I brought up the name. And that Lin would have certainly come out of her much needed hospital stay to do something reckless. “Where are the entrances?” he asks.

“It’s well covered. There’s a side door here, on a fire escape and the parking lot. You two have enough guys to cover those to begin with?”

“Probably,” Jess adds, “Why?”

I ignore the question. “You guys cover the exits at first, if they escape then this was all a waste of our nights, and I enjoy my nights far too much to waste them on you,” I joke, before shaking my head and getting back on track. “Sorry. With your cover, I’ll enter via alternate means. By being an idiot. Once I’ve found your girl’s missing husband, I’ll shut down the power. Once that happens, you move in. Kill them, not me or each other, while I get the victim out of there. Then, I disturb some dirt and leave hopefully without anyone knowing I was ever here, and the Handshake Deal holds a bit longer.”

Quincy nods. “We’ll need each others’ tags, then. Darkness, don’t want anyone getting confused.”

Jess is understandably paranoid about that, but understands the logic. “Alright, but you should know ours are all burners because of his involvement.” She gestures in my direction. Then, furrowing her brow, she adds, “And what was that about disturbing dirt.”

“Dangit, I thought I could slip that past you,” I joke, trying my best to keep the tension low. “There’s a flowerbed that I’m pretty sure has a body in it. That body gets found, it ties everything up nice and neatly so I don’t have as much paperwork. But, since if anyone thinks I’m involved that also has paperwork, I figure disturbing the dirt some tonight will make the baby cops they put on the case initially think to dig it up.”

Jess sighs. “I suppose, but Mitchell is the priority, right? I don’t want Keighlee on my ass anymore than she already is.”

I nod. “That’s fair. Alright, share tags, I’m heading out to get in position.”

“What about yours?” she asks.

I pat around my outfit in pantomime, before saying, “Oh no, I seem to have left those in my other crimepants. Jess, I assume Mitchell is tagged in your system?”

“Yeah,” she begins.

I cut her off before she remarks on how a burner tag has reasonable costs or something like that. “Share it with everyone, and don’t shoot the idiot who’s walking with the victim.”

They chuckle as I turn to head out towards the Bullette. Once I’ve entered the garage, Davis walks with me. “Everything good back there?” he asks.

“Dandy. Now I need to steady my head for the fall, your boss should be out in a moment with a more fleshed out plan,” I reply, getting on my bike.

“The fall?” he asks.

I don’t bother answering him. Taking a breath, I start the BlackBullette in stealth-mode, rising silently into the sky, no lights on anywhere. Leaving the garage, I head over to the nearest access to the upper streets. The warehouse is directly under a gas station on the upper highway system. Pulling into the station, and around back where there aren’t any cameras, I climb off the bike. Quietly, I try to find the maintenance hatch as I pull on a pair of gloves. It takes a bit longer than it should, but I’m in no rush. As I open it, I call up Marty once more. He picks up almost immediately. I tell him, “I’m worried about my Autumnal fashion. Do you think I play it safe?”

He gets the question immediately. Autumnal fashion means I’m doing something that involves falling. I’m asking if it’s safe to do it. He takes a moment before giving his answers. “Safe plays are always good,” he replies, “Call was well timed, I’d say I have a minute or so of calm before I have to go back to worrying about all this.”

“I always have had good timing,” I joke. I don’t bother to hang up, instead simply passing through the hatch and beginning the drop. It’s not a small drop and the wind resistance chute does only enough to slow my fall into something that isn’t going to kill me. I land on the roof and crumple into a roll. My entire left side decides to say hello to my pain receptors, but nothing feels broken. Probably. And more importantly, it shouldn’t have made too much noise. Retracting the chute, I wave in Marty’s general direction as I go over to the AC unit. Vents are not fun to crawl through, but shimmying through the warehouse vents is easier than dealing with the people what with guns. Opening it up, I slide in arms first.

Ventilation shafts are never as big as people expect. That’s why I prefer going hands first. Using my hands, I can push myself along the shaft without the main mass of my body doing too much movement that might make noise. I make my way down through the shafts towards where I saw the office. To my left is a smaller shaft, which means that’s probably the office. I head to the nearest proper opening and wait. The pain in my left side is worsened, joined by a pain in my right side, as I press my arms and legs against the wall and wait for silence. Eventually, it comes, and I open the vent, dropping to the carpeted floor. Slipping into the office, I close the door behind me. Sure enough, gagged, blindfolded, and handcuffed to a wall, is Mitchell Sampson. “Don’t worry,” I say quietly, before deciding to keep the civilian blindfolded and gagged so he doesn’t ruin the plan, but I do unhandcuff him from the wall. “I’m here to save you.”

“Hhww?” he asks through the gag. I can’t exactly tell if it’s a who or a how. Doesn’t matter, I’m not in the habit of answering people honestly.

I fish in my pockets, and, from the inner breast pocket of my jacket, I pull out a button. I flick the switch, press the button, and wait. From here, I can’t even hear the tiny explosion several blocks down. That’s not what I’m waiting for. What I’m waiting for is what that tiny transformer box for the neighborhood being demolished causes.

All the lights go out. There’s a yelp of surprise as the blindfold clearly lets through light. It would be suspicious. I move him down under the desk with me. The door opens. I hear someone say, “Vents!” another adds, “The roof.” Then, the gunfire starts. “Find them,” someone says over the din and echoing bursts of bullets.

“And now we can leave. Hopefully no one stops us from walking out the front door,” I whisper to Mitchell, keeping my voice calm and reassuring. He’s clearly nonplussed about the gunfire, but it also isn’t the first time he’s had to deal with that. Taking him by the shoulders, I begin to lead him through the hallways, out of the building. Staying low and avoiding anywhere that sounds too loud. We make it to a garage style door that seems safe enough. Pushing it open just a bit, I push him to the ground with me and roll us under the door, closing it behind us. Looking up, Jess is staring down at me holding an assault rifle. “Really,” she says, “Still blindfolded and gagged?”

“You know me,” I joke in the same whispered voice, though the whisper doesn’t necessarily read as comforting, “I love a good blindfold.” I give a wry wink.

She can’t help but chuckle as she shakes her head in disappointment. “I’ll keep you clear for two minutes at most, go play in your dirt,” she states. That’s not why she’s here, I realize, as I see in her belt the license plates of the van. She’s just making sure nothing ties things to her. Clever. I give her a polite nod as I stand up and help Mr. Sampson to his feet. “Come on now,” I say to him in that same comforting whisper, “Only a bit further.” Leading him over to the garden, I rip up the flowers on one end, then move to the center, digging down through the soil until I find flesh. It’s about two feet and change down before I hit the rotund stomach of what I can only assume is a former detective. Shoving the trigger down there, I refill the hole shoddily and take Mitchell’s shoulder once more. “Wait for it,” I whisper, then say, “Now.” The timing is entirely unimportant, but it should make him feel safer as I rush him across the street and into the alley. Marty and Keighlee should be waiting ahead. I place Mitchell’s hand on the wall of one of the buildings in the alley. “Keep walking straight ahead, following this wall. Everything will be okay.” And I walk away, heading towards any stairwell that will take me back to the upper level.

The story tomorrow will be simple enough. I already worked that out with them. I let something slip in the discussion with Keighlee that shook an idea in her head. She went off half-cocked to the area, Marty followed her. He neither knows anything about what happened. And neither ever saw who helped Mr. Sampson escape, they just found him alone walking down an alley after the neighborhood power outage. Mitchell also never saw anything, due to the blindfold, and I was using my comforting whisper so he shouldn’t recognize my normal irritating self. I’ll get a few days paid suspension for the letting something slip about the case, maybe get a bonus of some required talky time to torture the department therapist. Shouldn’t be more serious than that. Climbing back up to the upper story, I walk back to my bike. It seems Marty hung up the phone call with nobody sometime after I dropped down. Climbing onto the Bullette, I drive off to keep myself doing vaguely detective-y work through the night, at least until I get the surprising call that the kidnapping victim escaped and is safely at home.