Chasing Gold

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Terri screamed and fought her way to Cutler’s side, still on her knees. A man jabbed her in the back, sending her face-first into the foliage. She spat dead leaves and twigs from her mouth, struggling upright once more. The merc still pointed his gun at Cutler’s head, his finger half-squeezed on the trigger.

As she rose, Terri saw that Crouch, left alone, had ducked his head inside the mercenaries’ car. He was fiddling with something on the dashboard.

She yelled harder, seeing that as of right now Crouch was their only chance. All the mercs’ attention was on Cutler and herself.

“Try to run? I’m surprised at you,” the gun-holding merc hissed in anger. “They’d kill us if we lost you now just for the loss of revenue. You fuckers are worth millions, apparently.”

“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot him,” Terri cried.

“I won’t shoot the fucker,” the merc growled. “But I am gonna break some shit.”

“No! Please, no, we won’t try it again. We’ll sit quietly from now on. I beg you.”

Cutler struck out from his position on his knees, catching the mercenary in the groin but only making everything worse. The gun never wavered. With his free hand, the man took out a sharp, serrated knife about eight inches long.

“You and my friend here are gonna get acquainted, son.”

Terri inched forward on her knees, crying now. “You don’t want to do that. The boss will want us fit and… whole.” She didn’t let on that she knew their plan to sell them. “He won’t like it that you made this decision for him.”

The merc had already placed the knife against Cutler’s left ear, but now hesitated. He took a moment to pocket the gun, but the knife sank in just a little. Terri saw a thin flow of blood.

“Ok then, I’ll just take this for a trophy.”

He positioned the blade to take the ear off with a single swipe.

Cutler groaned, but didn’t struggle anymore. Terri pleaded with the man to stand down. Still, he delayed, no doubt enjoying the moment.

“Dude,” one of the other mercs said. “That’s enough.”

The man laughed and shoved Cutler face down into the ground. Terri scrambled over, but received a kick to the ribs.

“Another display like that and we will hurt you,” a voice rasped. “Now, get back to the car.”

Crouch saw the entire altercation. The information he required had been stored in the satnav, and he’d managed to memorize the upcoming stops. At least, he thought so. Time would tell. He’d been through memory-testing sessions whilst in the Army, but that felt like eons ago.

Now, he waited nonchalantly at the front of the car, right where he needed to be. Staying with the mercs, the banner and the thieves was the right and only thing to do. The mercs eyed him suspiciously as they approached, but he only put his hands in the air. This screamed out the possibility of a hidden weapon in the car — Crouch just wished he’d have thought little enough of them to look for it earlier.

Once they were on the road again, he leaned over in Terri’s direction. “You both okay?”

She nodded. “Barely, but we’re fine. Did you…?”

Crouch was pleased that she left the rest unsaid. He simply nodded. “I get it now,” he said.

She turned to him. “You get what?”

“You and him.” He nodded at the battered and bruised Cutler, who was slouched in the window seat. “He’s your gold, isn’t he?”

Terri smiled briefly. “It’s a long story but yeah, I guess so. Feels like I’ve been chasing him forever.”

Crouch smiled back, then relaxed into the back seat, knowing the next stop was a couple of hours distant. He had faith that Alicia and the others would find him, but knew they needed help. The trick now was figuring out a way to leave the next clue without tipping off the mercs.

It was a restaurant, and they were meeting up with more men. Those distractions at least ought to give him a chance.

They would have to.

Hours later, they drove through the traffic-thick, pedestrian-crowded streets of Cincinnati, following the satnav directions to the absolute letter. Crouch sat up, ready to act, conscious that the only ordnance he possessed was a couple of pens and some paper. When the sign for Old Rybolt passed by, he nodded at Terri and Cutler.

“Wait for my signal.”

It was risky, and maybe he wouldn’t need their help, but this next clue was imperative. The roads were wide, with eateries and gas stations situated along its length. The Sakura Steakhouse appeared, and their car bounced up off the main road and into its parking lot.

Crouch signaled Cutler to pull the door handle even before their guards moved. They climbed out, stretching their legs; Crouch searching for something to make use of.

Truth be told, and as expected, there was only one small chance.

The restaurant itself. All three captives voiced a need to visit the restroom, making the mercs pause and give it the once over.

“Can’t hurt,” one said. “Long trip ahead and the restrooms are right there.”

Another grunted. “We have five minutes before the boss gets here. Make it quick.”

Two mercs went with them, one to watch the men and the other to watch Terri. Crouch saw exactly what he needed in the first eight seconds.

Flyers were taped to the window next to the entrance. It was perfect. A message written there would undoubtedly be noticed by his team. But they were headed right past it, opening the restaurant door and searching for the restrooms. The mercs were right there, sticking to their elbows like glue. The brief, shining chance was dwindling.

Terri saw it. She saw Crouch’s face and realized exactly what he was thinking. Inside the restaurant, she drew the attention of both mercs.

“You’re not coming in there with me.”

The man in question faced her; the other gazed into the restaurant’s depths as if gauging the reaction of its patrons.

“I have to.” The first merc tried to remain calm. “The damn boss is here now. Wise up, bitch.”

“Oh, bitch? Really?” Terri’s voice rose an octave.

The second merc flexed the fingers of one hand. “Steady, steady,” he murmured. “People are looking.”

“Jesus, woman, your private bits are safe with me. I just have to make sure you don’t run.”

“A man like you would take a peek. I’ve met your kind before.”

Now, the first merc took a long deep breath to calm his voice before replying. “On my life… I promise to be a gentleman.”

It was pure gold for Crouch. Terri had enforced the stop just a few steps away from the front window, but slightly around a corner. All Crouch had to do was twist, remove a flyer, and start scribbling. He did it carefully, barely out of sight, still able to watch Terri who would hopefully warn him or react if things suddenly went sideways.

The flyer was perfect.

The wording and writing took just a few seconds.

Terri glared at the first merc, looking highly uncomfortable. “You promise?”

A waitress wandered over to them now, gaining even more attention from the mercs. Crouch loved it. They had fashioned an opportunity out of nothing.

A golden opportunity. He smirked at the bad joke.

Once the waitress departed, Terri saw Crouch’s thumbs up. With a flounce she spun away and walked briskly toward the restrooms. Shaking their heads, the mercs followed, only now glancing back to ensure Crouch was with them.

Five minutes later, they were back outside.

Crouch saw that another vehicle had pulled up alongside their own; a large black station wagon with intimidating fenders at the front, bright chrome side steps and fully tinted windows. The rear door opened to reveal just a single man that stepped out briskly to confront the mercs Crouch already knew.

“Well met. It this all of you?”

“Yes, sir. We reported the unanticipated amount of trouble.”

“You reported trouble. Not carnage. Now, I’m really gonna have to order up some more men.” He shook his head. “Fucking idiots.” He pulled out a cellphone. “These the prisoners?”

“Yes, sir,” the merc gritted.

Crouch studied the new arrival; the so-called boss. He was tall, six-foot-six at least, with dark black hair and a thick beard. He spoke with an American accent but now shouted into the phone in some form of Arabic. His appearance, his demeanor, spoke more and more toward this being a terrorist event.

And more was coming, including the sale of both thieves and whatever Crouch’s finale might be. If they knew he was ex-army, it would not be good.

“More men will meet us at the next stop,” the boss said, and then came around to stand in front of his prisoners. “My name is Omar. You are mine now, and I will do whatever I wish with you. It has been easy so far with these buffoons, yes? Not anymore. Get in the car. You will speak when I allow it; move when I permit. You will breathe because I give you my leave. Even the slightest deviation will result in the removal of digits. Am I clear?”

Crouch headed for the car.