Chained Guilt (Hidden Guilt (Detective Series) Book 1) (13 page)

19

“Go quickly to the front desk,” Carter ordered one of his men. “Find out what room David Porter is in. Now!”

“You must find and kill this man!” Abu said. “I do not want my name associated with this foul play.”

Time to leave. I closed the laptop, shoved everything into my backpack, and quickly left the room. I walked past the stairs and the guest elevator bank, and headed for the service elevator at the end of the hall. I pressed the button for the basement. When I reached the bottom, I stepped out cautiously, hugging the wall that led from the elevator to the laundry area. I spied a cement ramp that led to street level and sprinted up. With a quick glance both ways, I headed across the street, hailing a cab as I ran. One of Carter’s men spotted me as a taxi pulled to the curb.

“I got Porter getting into a cab! I’m going after him!” I heard a man yell.

I leapt into the cab, glancing out the back window. Carter’s man was dodging traffic in his effort to get across the street.

“Go! Go!” I yelled. “Don’t stop at the light.”

Just then, two rounds came through the back window of the cab. One of the bullets caught the driver in the shoulder. He yelped and lost control of the car. It jumped a curb near a corner. 

I jumped out of the car as it sideswiped a lamppost, stumbling to get my feet under me just before the cab crashed into two parked cars. Seconds later, it exploded into a fireball. I ducked instinctively, feeling the sting as shards of flying glass nicked my face and arms. Fortunately, I was far enough away from the cab to avoid being struck by any major debris.

I looked behind me; one of Carter’s men was still giving chase. Dusk was approaching, and I hoped I could avoid them and use the cover of darkness for protection as I tried to make my way back to the airport. I couldn’t go to the cops, because I was certain a billionaire like Abu would have several of them, if not the entire force, under his control.

I ducked into an alley and ran to the nearest doorway. I stood ramrod straight against the building, blending into the shadows as I pulled my gun.  My pursuer followed me into the alley and came charging in my direction. As he ran by me, I put one dead center. He dropped instantly.

I looked down at the dead man and noticed a walkie-talkie attached to his belt. I grabbed it and thumbed the tab.

“Carter? One down. If you tell them to turn back now, maybe they’ll live. If not, I’ll kill them all.”

“Shit!” Carter said.

I laughed. “Abu, leave now and I’ll keep your name out of this. I have no beef with you. I didn’t come here for you.”

I knew making this deal was the only way I could escape the wrath of the entire Dubai police force.

“You fools have created a mess.” Abu’s voice crackled over the walkie-talkie.  “Porter, my business with this man is finished.”

I had shifted the odds and created a chance to make it out of Dubai. I had already taken one of Carter’s bodyguards out and was confident the others would pose the same level of incompetence. Carter apparently didn’t realize his mike was still activated, as I was able to hear his next words.

“Meet me back in the room now!” Carter told his men. “Porter has audio with us and Abu. We must find him. You know the implications if we don’t.”

I made my way to the back of the alley, pulled my phone from my pocket, and called Captain Wilcrest, courtesy of international roaming.  I quickly filled him in.

“Cap, they found my bugs,” I informed him. “They gave chase. I took one down already.”

“David, have you gone to the local PD?”

“No. I can’t trust any of them. Abu has too many ties. The cops here are probably all in his back pocket.”

“David—”

“Cap, listen. Carter said Miranda’s dead. I’ll send you the audio file as soon as I get to the airport.” My voice shook with fury. “He’s coming back with me, I promise you that.”

“There’s actually one man there you can trust,” the captain said. “His name is Frank Mitchell. We served together in Vietnam. I’ll send his number to your phone. I’m sure he can help you out.”

“Okay, Cap. Send over a suit to watch my house. I gotta run.”

I ran deeper into an alley and then into what looked like an abandoned store. I needed a mirror and a restroom to clean up some. Couldn’t walk into an airport bleeding without arousing suspicion. I hurried to the back of the long-abandoned store—or at least it seemed that way considering the stink and filth laying about—and found the restroom. I opened my backpack and pulled out my clean pair of socks. They would have to do. I turned on the water and looked in the mirror, only to realize that the blood on my shirt had not been caused by flying glass. I’d been shot. The bleeding came from a through-and-through wound in the meat of my upper arm. My heart had been pumping so fast, I hadn’t even noticed it.

I had just wiped the blood off my arm and wrapped the other sock around the holes, tying a loose knot with one hand and my teeth, when my cell phone rang. I reached into my pocket with my good hand and answered it.

“This David Porter?” a deep voice asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“Must be my guy. Wilcrest gave me your number. Said you were in a heap of trouble here and needed a little help. Any friend of Wilcrest is a friend of mine.”

“You’re Frank Mitchell?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m in an old, abandoned store restroom right now. I took a shot, so I’m trying to clean it up a little.”

“Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

“No, I don’t have time for that. I’ve got some cleaning up to do here before I head back to the States.”

“I’m coming to pick you up. I’m able to track your location through your number. Stay put.  I know where you are.”

“You sure you want to get involved?” I asked him. “It could get pretty nasty.”

“Son, I served in Nam - if things get nasty, I’m sure I can handle my own.”

I made my way to the front and looked out, careful to keep myself hidden from any passersby.

“Hey, let’s get outta here.”

The voice came from behind me. My heart leapt and I spun around, gun in hand.

“If I was one of them, you’d be dead,” the voice said. “And you were worried about me?”

I cursed under my breath. Mitchell had snuck into the building some other way. He’d had an easy kill shot had he wanted to take one. I couldn’t afford to be so careless.

“David Porter, I presume. The name’s Frank Mitchell. Wilcrest said you were pretty good at what you do.” He smiled. “You don’t look like much to me, though.”

“Yeah, you know you can’t judge a book by its cover. C’mon, let’s go.”

Mitchell had long, dark hair and was pretty muscular for an old guy. He wore dark fatigues and military-issued boots.
Did this guy still think he was in Nam?

“Where’d you get your training, kid?”

“After college, I did three years with the Army Rangers. Did a few tours in Saudi. Not exactly Nam, but I know my way around. Didn’t see myself making a career out of the military, so I joined the PD. Didn’t know how that’d work, either, but I’m still there, fifteen years deep.”

“Ranger, huh? I was a Marine - Tiger Force. Most exhilarating  job in the military, we did shit you cupcake boys only dreamed about. We came to get you guys when the stuff got too deep. And as fate would have it, I’m saving one of you again.”

“Pretty impressive,” I grunted. “Look, I don’t have much time. I need to take these guys down before they decide to head back to the States, and I don’t mind having a Marine save my ass.”

“Well, you look like shit. Let me get you some food and a few toys, and then you can do what you gotta do. What kind of trouble you in anyways?”

“No trouble I can’t handle, just a couple bodyguards. The trouble will be finding their boss. I don’t want to kill that one. I need him alive.”

We walked four blocks before arriving at a nondescript house. Inside, the place looked as I expected it would—dark, cold, and messy—more like a military barracks than a house. Guns littered the coffee table, and ammo was piled everywhere. As long as he had food and a little firepower for me, I could deal with the mess.

“Come on in. Get some of this grub in you.”

Mitchell slapped a bowl of hardened oatmeal in front of me. I was hungry, but when the aroma of the food hit my nose, my stomach churned.

“Thanks, but I’m going to have to pass.”

Mitchell shrugged and handed me a military issued assault rifle and some ammo.

“You can set these down and make you a perimeter if you need to,” Mitchell said.

“You preparing for war in here or what?”

“I
stay
ready, son. That way I don’t have to
get
ready.”

“Well, thanks for all this.” I picked up the equipment. “I have to get going.”

“Good luck, Ranger. Here, take this too.”

I caught the grenade he tossed my way.

“Never know when one of these little puppies will come in handy,” he said with a grin.

I left Mitchell’s and headed back in the direction of the hotel to see if Carter and his men still lingered there. To my surprise, they did. I saw one of Carter’s men standing guard on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, and, unfortunately, he also spotted me.

I dashed into the street, dodging cars as they honked and swerved around me. One crashed into a compact car waiting at the stoplight. It was only a fender bender, so I made my move. I ran to the dented vehicle and tapped on the driver’s-side window with the butt of my pistol. 

“Get out now!”

I don’t know if the driver understood my words, but he took one look at me and scrambled out of the car.

I hopped in and ran the red light, barely avoiding being T-boned by a car crossing the intersection, and sped down the street. I glanced in the rearview mirror and swore. Two of Carter’s men reappeared on black racing bikes.
Where the hell had they gotten bikes?
  It appeared Carter had found some toys of his own while I hooked up with Mitchell.

I pushed the little foreign car as fast as it would go.
Could I have stolen a slower car?
The bikes closed the distance in a hurry. I slammed on the brakes and turned down a back street. The bikers behind me gave chase. Looking ahead, I saw another bike headed straight toward me from the opposite direction.

I swerved toward the sidewalk, jumped the curb, and took out a row of trash cans, hoping the cans would roll into the street and into the path of the trailing bikers. At the next intersection, I would make my move. I revved the engine and waited until the last second. I pulled up the hand brake, sending the back end of the car spinning around.

The back fender smacked into the oncoming motorcycle. I heard a cry and the crunch of metal as the bike and rider flipped into the air.

I quickly released the brake and slammed my foot down on the accelerator. I fumbled for the walkie-talkie still in my jacket pocket. I tabbed the switch. 

“Two down, Carter. I told you I was going to kill them all.”

The two men trailing me opened fire with automatic weapons. At that moment, I realized Carter might try to ditch his men here while he headed back to the States. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, and with one eye on the street and one on my display panel, I thumbed through my call log.

“Mitchell, Porter here. You want some action?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Mitchell drawled. “Sounds like you got plenty of it going on right now.”

“Just some minor gunfire and a high speed chase. That’s a little out of your realm, huh, Marine? I got a recon mission for you, though. The Ritz-Carlton, room 202. A man named John Carter.” I described him. “I need him alive. I’m picking his men off one by one. I’m sure you’ll have a chase on your hands when he realizes I’m coming after him next. Try not to make too much of a mess, okay?”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Mitchell laughed. “I’ll get your man. You stay alive, Ranger.”

20

I needed to plan my next move. I still had two of Carter’s bodyguards giving chase and bullets whizzing around me. Then, an idea popped into my head. I knew it would be risky, but I had no choice. I decided to use the grenade to take out one of them. If I timed it just right, it would blow right on top of the man. I would have to set him up, though.