AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 9
Manhattan is a fucking mess. Reports of gunshots and small fires have the police deploying everywhere. Sirens can be heard coming from all directions. Helicopters hover overhead. Snarled traffic blocks dozens of streets, despite the authorities’ efforts to redirect people away. I’ve never seen so many cops.
Everyone knew Anarchy, Inc. would strike again — now they have. This has to be them. They might not be the only group capable of organizing such an attack, but this is the third time in a row I was somehow involved. First Hamza Bin Khaled, then Waterston and Thor — now they take Kate. I’m the connecting thread. This has to be about me.
Taking her out to dinner at Ennio’s was brilliant of me. I painted a target on her back. Do they really think I care about her? Did they calculate that they could hurt me by abducting her? As much as I’d like to keep Kate around, I’d trade the fun of tormenting her for a resolution to a threat on my life. Revenge is a luxury of the living.
I’ve always hated the city, so credit where it’s due: Anarchy has unleashed some serious chaos here, and it’s fucking beautiful. If they weren’t my enemy, we might even get along.
But now they’ve fucked up. They might be professionals, but they’re not omniscient: they probably didn’t know Kate had not one but three tracking devices under her skin. They just crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. My motorcade of all-black Crown Victorias, indistinguishable from unmarked police cruisers, has stayed in pursuit. We hold far enough back that they can’t see us, but we never let them get too far ahead. There’s no need to keep them in sight visually, as long as Kate’s trackers keep us updated.
“They’ve stopped,” says Nick. “A warehouse in Vinegar Hill.”
“All units, close in immediately,” I say.
Now Anarchy, Inc. is going to find out what happens when you fuck with Anton Ford. Between our eight vehicles, we have thirty expert mercenaries fully-armored and packing assault rifles. They’re never going to see us coming.
“Remember, I want to interrogate the leader,” I add. “Twenty million dollars for everyone you take alive.”
It’ll be money well-spent. What’s the point of having hundreds of billions of dollars if you don’t use it for the things you really want?
My vehicle hangs back from the rest, but I can follow video feeds from the lead cars on my tablet. They round a bend, heading for the waterfront.
“Intercept ahead. Get ready,” Nick says, spotting the warehouse. It looks abandoned: windows busted, siding rusted and tagged by vandals from top to bottom.
Perfect. We should be able to take them without a lot of public attention.
“That’s it. There’s the van,” announces Nick. “Form a perimeter, block it in.”
Our cars split up and swerve to the right and left, creating a barrier two cars deep between the building and the road. A van that size could theoretically plow through the line, but there’s not enough space to pick up the speed it would need.
Tapping my tablet, I activate the loudspeaker on the lead car.
“Come out now with your hands up or we’ll shoot.”
I flip apps to Kate’s tracker — she should be inside.
Do they think we’re here to rescue her?
Come on, you fuckers. Try to use her as a bargaining chip — it won’t end well.
However, no one responds.
“Is Atwood alive?” Nick asks.
I nod.
“Her vitals are nominal. Steady pulse. She’s awake and alert.”
“Maybe they left her?” he suggests.
Fuck.
“They could have scanned her for tracking devices,” I admit. “If they stopped when they realized they were being tracked and bailed out, they’ll be on foot. They couldn’t have gotten too far. Alert the NYPD and FBI that the suspects are here in Brooklyn.”
As much as I wanted to catch them myself, there’s no way we can search the borough on our own.
“All units, get out and scour the area. Someone check the van and bring me the hostage.”
