Destiny

ONE-HUNDRED-THIRTEEN

Before they sat up in the rear seat, Marcus and Alicia waited for their driver to pull away from the Messina harbor area and drive a few blocks into town. The man looked at them in his rearview mirror. “Name’s John Gravina.”

“I’m Alicia. This is Paul. Damn it, I caught my dress in the door.” She opened the door and pulled her dress inside the car.

John glanced in the mirror. “I know it’s none of my business. It’s just odd that you’re crouching down there in the backseat like someone is going to take your head off, especially since you’re pregnant. I’m not in any deep shit sitting up here by myself, am I?”

“We just need to be cautious,” Marcus said. “It’s a long story.”

“No problem.” John slid the dark glasses down from the top of his head and pushed them up on the bridge of his nose and drove faster though the ancient streets of downtown Messina.

Heydar Kazim shifted gears in the Alfa Romeo Spider through the square in the heart of Messina. He scanned all oncoming vehicles, cars parked on the side of the road and cars in front of him, searching for the black Fiat Punto.

The mobile phone buzzed in the seat next to him. The caller was unknown. In Russian, Kazim said, “I’m in Messina.”

“Where are the Americans?”

“They are close by. I know the car they’re driving and—”

“And what! They should have been eliminated by now. Do you know what’s happening while you’re trying to find them? The Chinese smell blood. They know the Circle of 13 has been compromised severely. They’re moving in, recalling debts, making inquiries and acquisitions, and they are in constant communications with Iran and Syria, the nations I have plans for. Find the spear! Find and destroy that flash drive!”

The former president of Russia slammed down his phone.

“Can you drive faster?” Marcus asked.

John glanced up in the rearview mirror. “I don’t want to drive too fast and cause your wife to go into labor.” He chuckled.

“Trust me. I’m fine,” Alicia said.

John downshifted around a city block and sped up. He flew though a school zone. Within seconds, he saw the lights of a police car in his mirror, the siren blaring. “Oh shit! The cops. I didn’t see that school crossing. That’s about the only reason the police in Sicily will stop you for speeding. You gotta be blowin’ through a school zone. Damn!”

He pulled to the side of the road. The officer approached the car. He looked at John and then stared at Marcus and Alicia. In Italian, he asked, “Why the rush? And who are your passengers?”

John grinned. “My friend’s wife is close to giving birth.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “I can offer you a police escort to the hospital.”

Alicia shot a quick glance at Marcus.

Heydar Kazim saw the police emergency lights. He recognized the black Fiat that the officer had pulled over. This gave him a plan. Kazim reached in the glove box and found a map of Messina. He shook the map open, covered his pistol and silencer with the map, and pulled up behind the black fiat. He watched the officer look at him curiously for a moment. Kazim smiled and got out of the car. Holding the open map, he approached the officer. In Italian he said, “Excuse me, sir. I’m terribly lost. I’m supposed to meet my friend at the Museo Regionale. Can you show me on the map?”

The officer raised his sunglasses and reached out. Kazim fired a single bullet through the map, hitting the officer in the center of his forehead.

“Oh shit!” shouted John in the front seat.

“Drive!” Marcus yelled, drawing the pistol from inside his jacket. Kazim pulled hard on the rear door handle. Locked. He fired a shot into the window. The bullet blew a hole through the laptop computer on the seat between Marcus and Alicia. Shards of glass rained down on them.

Kazim reached through the shattered window, his hand searching for the lock. “Give me the spear!” he ordered.

“Drive!” Marcus yelled. He opened the car door with force, slamming the door into Kazim’s legs and groin.

John squealed the tires pulling away from the curb. Kazim stood. He fired three quick rounds into the speeding car. One round shattered the rear window. The other two hit the trunk and taillight.

“SHIT!” John yelled. “Who the hell are you two?”

Alicia shook pieces of glass from her hair. “Paul, he shot through the computer.”

Marcus looked down at the laptop, the hole the size of a nickel through the center. He reached in his pocket and took out the flash drive. “Doesn’t matter. It’s all backed up here. We just need to get to any computer with an Internet connection to upload it.”

John downshifted and flew through the old streets, past the crowds lined up to watch the noon performance of the astronomical clock near the Messina Cathedral. He looked up in the rearview mirror. “Now I know who you are. You’re the dude who won the Nobel Prize and gave the speech about those guys you called the Circle of 13 and what crap the world’s facing. And you’re in my car…holy freakin’ shit…”

Marcus could hear the sound of police sirens around the city. “John, please get us to a computer and the Internet. Time’s running out.”

“I don’t even like the way you say that. Who was that dude? What did he mean about the spear?”

“It’s a long story,” Alicia said. “We have to find a computer and the Internet.”

“There’s a coffee shop, Café Messina, on Market Street. Somebody’s always online in there. ”

Marcus nodded. “How far?”

“One block. There’s an alley behind the café.”

John drove around slower cars, popping through the gears, pulling to an abrupt halt in the alley. They got out of the car. Alicia reached under the maternity dress and removed the pillow, tossing it in a garbage can in the alley.

John shook his head. “Damn! You’re not even pregnant.”

“No.” With John following a few seconds behind, she and Marcus ran down the alley, turned left on Market Street and stopped when they reached the neon espresso sign where they entered the small café. Less than a dozen people sat at tables. Most were sipping coffee and eating pastries or salads. One heavyset man sat alone in the corner, eyes glued to his laptop computer screen, earplugs in his ears. He was playing a video game, the light from the screen bouncing in his eyes.

Marcus and Alicia walked over to him. “Perdonarci.”

The man looked up just as John entered and approached them. “Che?” the man asked.

John said, “Devono prendere in prestito il computer.”

The man shook his head. “No sono nel—”

Marcus reached in his coat and drew the pistol. “Get up! Spiacente. Alzarsi!”

The man raised his hands and stood. Marcus handed the gun to Alicia. “All I need is one minute.”

Two people in the shop screamed and ran for the door. The storeowner picked up the phone and dialed the police.

Marcus inserted the drive in the side of the computer, found a strong Internet connection, and punched the keyboard. He uploaded data from the drive to the website, watching the bar in the bottom of the screen begin to fill. Ten percent…twenty-five percent…the solid colored line gradually loading.

Police sirens were coming closer. “Come on!” Alicia whispered, her eyes cutting from the terrified man to the computer screen, the pistol in her trembling hands.

John asked, “What is it? What the hell are you uploading?”

Marcus watched the bar. “Done,” he said, ejecting the flash drive. “It’s information that will either help prevent the end of earth…or cause it to happen. Let’s go!”

Alicia lowered the pistol. She followed Marcus and John, all three bolting from the store, running down the alley and back to the car. Police converged at the front of the store, weapons drawn, snipers arriving and taking cover behind parked cars.

Heydar Kazim kept at a distance, following the sirens of the police and emergency vehicles to the small café. Officers began barricading the street. Kazim drove around the huge police presence on Market Street to the next block. Tourists on the streets pointed in the direction of the lights, sirens and confusion. Some readied mobile phone cameras, not knowing what to expect. Kazim honked his horn, scattering passersby, driving quickly down alleys and backstreets.

The black Fiat.

It was a blur in the distance. The car was speeding, moving down Via del Vespro, toward the port. Kazim followed. He reached for the Makarov under his coat and set the pistol in the seat beside him. His order was to kill, and he wasn’t going to miss this time.