Jordan
With the bike in place, Jordan walked through the metal gates of the builders’ yard, as casually as he could, before running to the edge of the site and climbing up over a brick wall to escape. He waited behind another wall for ten minutes, before darting towards Owen’s car across the road. They were so far from the bike, Owen needed binoculars to keep it in clear sight.
Jordan jumped into the back seat, catching his breath. Luna passed back a can of cola and a bag of chips. He’d been so focused on the plan he’d barely eaten all day. He smiled as he took them.
“Holy shit!” Owen suddenly called out, “I think someone’s approaching the bike.”
Jordan chucked the food onto the seat next to him and sat bolt upright.
“He’s leaning down to touch the bike, go, go, go.”
Jordan leaped out of the car and ran so fast his limbs were moving like powerful machinery.
As he got closer to the bike, the man in question, who was wearing a black hooded top heard him and looked up, startled, before turning to run.
“I don’t fucking think so!” Jordan called out through sharp, fast breaths as he placed one hand firmly on the guy’s shoulder with such force it knocked him to the ground.
“Who the hell are you?” Jordan demanded, panting as Owen’s brakes screeched to a halt next to them. He pulled down the man’s hood but didn’t recognize him.
“What were you doing?” he yelled.
The guy blinked and shook but said nothing. He was skinny with a gaunt, pale face. “Who sent you?” Jordan continued through gritted teeth.
Suddenly, the man slipped out of Jordan’s grip and leaped to his feet, but Jordan wasn’t going to give up that easily. He wrapped his strong arms around the guy’s feeble body in an attempt to force him back down again. But before Owen reached the tangled bodies to help, the young guy produced a can of pepper spray and aimed it into Owen’s eyes before Jordan smacked it out of his hand and pushed the guy’s face into the concrete.
Luna jumped out of the car and rushed to Owen’s side. Through gritted teeth, under red streaming eyes, Owen reassured her he’d be fine.
“Luna, open the trunk,” Jordan ordered from his position on top of the guy.
“What?”
“Just do it, now.”
Luna did as he asked and stood back as Jordan lifted the guy like a sack of potatoes and dumped him in the trunk, kicking and screaming. He slammed it shut.
“Jordan, you can’t do this,” Luna cried, her voice high with panic. “It’s all getting out of hand. You could get in serious trouble for this.”
“Like I’m not already,” he murmured in a low voice as he headed for the driver’s seat.
Owen got to his feet and reached out for Luna’s hand for support. “He’s right. We can’t just give up and let this guy run free. Just trust him, OK?”
Luna nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to agree out loud, but whatever was in the plan, she knew Jordan had morals. She knew this must be leading somewhere. She glanced at the trunk, which was being violently kicked at from the inside, as she made her way round to the back door and climbed in the car before Jordan sped off to a garage he had keys for nearby.
“This is one of the Frontiers’ lock-ups. We can keep this asshole here until he talks,” Jordan said.
Owen’s eyes were red raw, and despite blinking all too often, he could see again and was able to help Jordan get the wriggling, tangled body out of the trunk and into a bunch of ropes. They tied him to a metal door frame inside the garage and gagged his mouth with a rag.
Jordan paced in a semi-circle in front of their hostage, like a jaguar eyeing up his prey. “Who sent you?”
The guy mumbled through the cloth frantically. Jordan pulled a pocket knife from his jeans, walked over calmly and cut the fabric loose. “Make any loud noises, and things will get significantly worse for you. I’ll ask you again. Who sent you?”
The guy shook his head. He looked weak now, his eyes wide and his gaunt, thin face at only chest level with Jordan. “I don’t know.”
Jordan laughed. “Nice try. You don’t come after someone without knowing who you’re working for. Who sent you?”
The guy bit his lip repetitively. “Some guy. I don’t know his name. I thought he wanted to buy meth, but he offered me money to do one job.”
“Where did he approach you?” Jordan asked, his thick arms folded across his chest.
Luna watched from a shadowy corner, her breath short and fast and both arms curled around her body. This wasn’t the Jordan she knew. This was the military version of him, the bodyguard, the one who looked danger square in the eye. Although it frightened her, she couldn’t help swelling with respect for him. He knew how to handle himself.
“On the corner of Madison Avenue,” the sniveling captee said. “I don’t know who he is, where he comes from, or what he wants. I just wanted the money.”
“And after you were supposed to stick a bomb on my bike...”
“Jesus, it wasn’t a bomb,” the guy interrupted. “I may be no angel, but I’m not a goddamn killer.”
“Well, what was it?” Jordan asked, stepping closer and towering over him.
“A tracking device.”
Jordan nodded. “Where is it?”
“In my pocket.”
Jordan signaled to Owen to come over. Owen placed one hand on the guy’s chest to stop him being able to move while Jordan bent down and rummaged in the pocket of the guy’s trousers. He found the tiny device, dropped it on the ground and crushed it with his heel.
“We’d better get moving. He might already know where we are. Shit.”
“So, can I go?” the guy asked. “You don’t need me for anything. I didn’t even get paid. I was supposed to go straight back to Madison Avenue with a photo of the device on your bike, and then he’d pay me.”
Jordan paced back and forth for a minute. “How about a deal? I’ll let you go... straight to Madison Avenue.”
“But I don’t have a picture.”
“I’ll give you a damn picture. You get your payment, I get my man. I’ll follow him.”
Jordan picked up the remains of the tracking device and assembled a convincing set-up of them in his exhaust and took a photo on the guy’s phone.
He and Owen untied him, taking care to keep his arms bent up his back to disable them, and marched him out to the car.
“Luna, the trunk,” Jordan said in her direction.
“Oh man, not the trunk. I’m not a danger to you,” the guy whined.
“You nearly got me killed,” Jordan barked. “Get in.”
There was silence from the trunk the whole way through town to Madison Avenue. Jordan was careful to take only quieter streets, just in case he decided to make a noise and alert suspicion.
Just around the corner, they parked. Jordan and Owen exchanged glances as if passing power to each other. Luna watched from the back seat of the car as they moved around to the trunk and let their prisoner go. He scuttled off like a desperate rat searching for a way back into the sewer. Jordan went one way, and Owen went another, making their way to the corner of the street so whichever way Sheldon went, one of them could move on him quickly.
Their dealer stood at the corner, met by some flunkies who patted his back, but he stayed silent, looking around nervously.
Jordan and Owen waited on opposite sides of the street within view of each other, but no one approached.
Twenty minutes passed, as Luna watched their figures from a distance from her viewpoint in the car. She sighed.
Just then, a car sped past, and she saw Jordan signal to Owen, and they ran back to the car.
As Jordan bounced into the driver seat, he said breathlessly, “That was him! That was Sheldon. He knew something was up so avoided his druggie helper.”
Owen leaped into the passenger seat, and Jordan started up the car immediately and sped off in the direction they’d seen the dark red Volvo Estate pass. They took a few different turns, desperately searching for signs of the car.
Eventually, Jordan gave up. “Shit,” he said, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel and bowing his head to rest his forehead on it. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He looked at Owen, who was pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.
“Our only hope now is Everett,” Jordan said with a sigh.