Page 41 of Gates of Tartarus

“Elizabeth?”

“Oh my God, Kailani!” The phone keeps breaking up, but I can hear unusual distress in her tone.

“Elizabeth! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Contact your department! Someone… kidnap… they crashed into our ca… My driver managed… only just escape… at the hosp… about to call Maela…I’m fine, but….”

The phone crackles sharply, and I call into it again, “Elizabeth!” but it dies. Thinking quickly, I know at least she’s safe for the moment, so I send a team 911 to meet at the station and frantically pull my boots and jacket out of my saddlebags. I debate with myself for a moment, but remembering my promise to Hideo, I groan in impatience and take out my overpants as well. I kick off my shoes and pull on my pants and jacket over my outfit, lacing my boots as quickly as possible. Throwing my leg over my bike, I turn sharply. The crowd of reporters around Tennireef to my right creates an unexpectedly clear road to my left, and I’m able to swing out onto the empty street with no impediment. I get about three blocks before I notice my brakes feel loose when I squeeze them. Moments later my bike starts shaking violently. Down the street the light turns red, and the crossing traffic is heavy. Heart thudding in my chest, I try the brakes again. This time there’s no response at all, and I barrel towards the cars at 35 miles an hour, knowing if I can’t stop I’ll be torn apart like a rag doll when I get to the intersection.

Feeling sick to my stomach, I only have time to thinkpleasebefore I kick out my back wheel and lay down my motorcycle. And then, there’s nothing but black.

Ouch!

Friday, November 9 – Kailani

Iopen my eyes to a very concerned and slightly disapproving Marco looking down at me.

“Ms. Reed,” he says worriedly, clearly having repeated it several times before now.

“Marco?” I ask, blinking a little. “What the hell?”

He helps me sit up slowly, supporting my back gingerly. “Why’d the fuck you lay down your bike like that?” He grunts slightly as more of my weight sags against him than he expects. “You could have killed yourself.”

Still confused, I look around, seeing my poor motorcycle scratched to hell. “Ohhhhh!” I moan, and Marco looks at me, frantic.

“You okay? What’s wrong? What hurts?”

“My bike!” I say, near tears, and understanding dawns on his face.

“Yeah, man. That’s... it’ll probably be okay. But what the hell, Ms. Reed? You’re lucky I was nearby.”

I press a hand lightly to my head, trying to focus. “Shit, Marco. I think the brakes were cut. Make sure no one messes with it ‘til backup gets here.”

He frowns deeply, his young face gaining years in the crevices of his concern. “Yeah, about that. Where’s your backup?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, flexing my feet and legs, everything feeling okay until I reach my right shoulder, which is on fire from the pain. “Shit. God damn. Shit, shit, shit.”

He looks around again. “No one but you involved, and no damage to public property. I think we should move you if you’re able. I can call your team to pick you up at the bar.”

“I can wait for someone here, Marco. It’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “Not to disagree with you, Ms. Reed, but you’ve got at least one reporter trailing you after that dinner to ask you some questions, and they can’t be that far behind you. So unless you want some very public attention on this wreck and what went down, I think I’m gonna put your bike in my truck and get us gone.”

My body is shaking from adrenaline and pain, and I’m having a difficult time focusing. “What... why are you even here, Marco?”

He shrugs self-deprecatingly. “I was checking on one of our girls in the area and heard through the rumor mill that the senator was out with... well, the guy telling me wasn’t polite about it, so I’ll leave that out, but I knew it was you and wanted to check. I don’t trust that guy – too much politician. Anyway, I kind of watched from the window with the rest of the crowd, and you looked really pressed. I mean, to most people I’d think you looked okay, happy almost, but I don’t know. It’s my job to see what the girls are really feeling when they’re out with someone, right? So they’re smiling a lot, but I have to look beyond that. And you looked pressed as fuck, if you’ll excuse the language. And he was putting on a show with you. Then you just peeled out of there, and the way he watched you go... I dunno, Ms. Reed. Like, to everyone I think it looked like he was smiling ‘cause like, he likes you or something. The reporters were having a field day. But it looked mean to me. Like he was happy about something not good. So I decided to follow you. And sure as shit, your bike started flexing within a block, and now here you are three blocks later and you’re scraped to shit and…”

As he’s talking, he’s also very efficiently moved me to his truck and lifted me into the front seat. His voice drifts away as he moves to the back of the pickup, shouting briefly, and a couple of guys from the side of the road come help him heave my wrecked bike into the bed. I close my eyes for what feels like a moment, but when I open them we’ve arrived at 18th Amendment, and I wake for a second time to Marco’s concerned face.

“Shit, Ms. Reed. You need the hospital or something?”

Shaking my head slightly, I decline. “I’ll wait for the team and move from there. You see anything suspicious while I was at dinner?”

He pauses, then says, “Honestly? Naw. I wasn’t really looking though, you know? I was just hunting down a bad feeling.”

“I’m glad you did. Thank you, Marco,” I say softly, reaching out and grabbing his hand for a moment.

“The way I see, I owe you more than this little thing. I can tell a difference, Ms. Reed. My chest… there used to be a steel cord around it.Isure as hell didn’t get rid of it.”