Crown's Vengeance, The (27 page)

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Authors: Andrew Clawson

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Historical, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Heist, #Financial, #Spies & Politics, #Conspiracies, #Thrillers

BOOK: Crown's Vengeance, The
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Her mouth screwed up, forehead lined. “One question, though. Why would Aldrich, if they are somehow involved with this oil production thing, purposefully lose so much money? And beside that, how in the world could they influence whether or not oil production increased? They don’t own any oil facilities, do they?”

Even amidst this disaster of a day, she was sharp as ever.

“Both valid points. As for answers, I don’t know. I’m hoping Nick can help us.”

The taxi stopped outside of Independence Hall, which was across the street from the Liberty Bell Center. On the grassy lawn that surrounded the newly constructed building, hundreds of tourists milled about, most snapping pictures.

They hurried to a nearby payphone.

“You know, I haven’t used one of these in years,” Parker said.

“Neither have I. Do you have any quarters?”

“No, but Nick’s office has a toll free number. This call’s on Uncle Sam.”

A minute later, Nick picked up. “Chase, what’s going on? I told you guys to stay put.”

Parker brought him up to speed while Erika kept her eyes on the surrounding crowds, searching for any unfriendly faces.

“You sure keep things interesting. What did you do with the guns?”

“We still have them.”

“All right, I need to meet you guys. Bring the guns, and maybe we’ll get lucky and get a hit on them. Are you safe right now?”

“There are tons of people around here. I think we can last for a bit.”

“Stay put. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Try not to shoot anyone.”

Parker hung up. “Nick’s coming here.”

Erika was silent, her eyes never leaving the crowds.

With nothing to do for the time being, Parker figured he may as well check his messages and see if any of his industry contacts had called about the oil trading.

He punched in his office number and had the secretary connect him to voice mail.

The first six messages were all from clients, people with questions about their investments. Those could wait.

The seventh message could not.

“Get over here.”

Erika’s head jerked around, one hand reaching for a gun.

“No, no, the phone. Listen to this message.”

He punched a button, and the message started over. Erika pressed one ear to the receiver as Parker listened in.

“Parker, my name is Craig Fisher. I worked with Ben Flood at Aldrich.” The voice was soft, hesitant. “We’ve never met, but Ben mentioned your name a few times.” A deep breath, and Craig’s voice was even shakier. “I don’t know if this matters, but I thought you would want to know. A few days ago, when I was in our chairman’s office, I saw your name and photo on his desk.”

Erika jumped a few inches off the ground, her mouth shaped like an oval.

“I couldn’t see what was on the file, but I saw your name written on some papers attached to the picture, so I checked out your company profile photo. I have no doubt it was a photograph of you.” Craig sounded like he was about to lose it. “There was also someone else’s photo in the file, a blonde girl. All I could see was her first name: Erika. After that, Spencer Drake walked in. If you want to call me, here’s my cell.”

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds. While they stood, pondering this latest development, Nick’s government-issue sedan pulled to the curb. “Toss the cell phone you found and get in.”

Parker dropped the phone on the sidewalk before hopping in Nick’s sedan with Erika. Tires chirped as he cut off the car behind him, merging with traffic.

“What happened to the badass SUV?”

“Someone else is using it. What—”

Parker cut Nick off. “I think we just found out who’s after us.”

While Parker relayed the story to an astonished government agent, none of them noticed the black Suburban that trailed behind, shadowing their every turn.

 

Chapter 43

On a crowded street in downtown Philadelphia, traffic inched along. Amidst the exhaust fumes and orchestrated chaos, a black Suburban carried three men, each silently focused on the dark blue sedan four cars ahead, in the back of which sat their two targets.

One of the dark-suited trio spoke rapidly into a cell phone. “Yes, we found the other two. Both were shot. No, we didn’t have time to move the bodies. Because the police were coming, that’s why.” He listened for a moment, face unmoving.

“The two of them are ahead of us. We have visual contact. They’re now with a third man, identity unknown. I’ve never seen him before. We’ll follow them until an opportunity presents itself. I’ll notify you before we move on them, Mr. Becker.”

He replaced the phone in his pocket. Each member of his team carried an identical device, including the two who were now lying in a dirt lot, shot to death by Parker Chase. Fortunately for these men, each phone was equipped with a real-time GPS tracker. Without it, the three men would never have been able to locate Parker, Erika and their driver outside of Independence Hall.

“Once we get into a less populated area, we move. One hit from this tank”-he patted the dashboard-“and that sedan won’t be driving anywhere.”

For several miles, they remained just back of the sedan, hidden in heavy traffic. It was only once their target entered the Fairmount neighborhood of Philadelphia that traffic began to thin. Located near the world famous art museum, the area was mainly residential, with relatively few cars on the one-way streets.

Ahead loomed the gothic facade of the infamous Eastern State Penitentiary. Stone walls stretched over forty feet into the air, constructed in the manner of a medieval castle and spanning an entire block.

The passenger made a call. “We’re moving in. Eastern State Pen, south wall.”

He dropped the phone and pulled out his gun. “Get them.”

Without a word, the massive eight-cylinder engine growled, and their oversized vehicle shot forward, on a direct course for the blue sedan.

 

Chapter 44

“Craig Fisher, please.” Parker was riding shotgun in Nick’s car, talking on the agent’s speakerphone. After he’d explained to Nick about the message they’d received, Nick had wanted to speak with Fisher immediately.

“Fisher speaking.”

“Craig, this is Parker Chase. You left me a voice mail about Ben Flood.”

The voice coming into Nick’s car dropped so low it was scarcely audible. Nick cranked the volume knob in frustration.

“Parker, wow, you must think I’m nuts.”

“Not at all. I can’t explain right now, but trust me, I believe you and I appreciate you calling. I have someone on the line who wants to speak with you.”

“This is Central Intelligence Agent Nicholas Dean, Mr. Fisher. I need your help.”

“Did you say CIA?”

“That’s right, son. Where are you right now?”

“I’m in my office.”

“Good. Do you have access to your company’s main database?”

“Yes, of course,” Craig replied. “Why?”

Nick ignored the question. “You’ll be receiving a phone call in the next ten minutes from one of my colleagues. I need you to do exactly as they tell you. Mr. Fisher, you may have just stumbled onto one of the biggest conspiracies in our nation’s history, and we need your help to stop it.”

Craig’s response was incredulous. “What are you talking about? Are Parker and that blonde girl in trouble?”

“Yes, Mr. Fisher, they are. However, that’s not important right now. Let me ask you a question. Are you having an interesting day at work?”

Craig sounded taken aback. “Well, yes. Actually, that’s an understatement.”

“What we are investigating is directly related to the recent news regarding oil production.”

Craig didn’t say anything, but Nick wasn’t biting on the silence.

There was a long pause.

“Oh,” Craig Fisher finally continued. “In that case, I suppose I can help. Is Parker still there?”

“I’m here,” Parker replied. “We think that whoever killed Ben is somehow tied in with the people responsible for today’s oil announcement, and we need your help to find them.”

“You think the Arabs killed Ben?” Craig shouted.

“Craig, keep it down. No, I don’t think it was anyone from the Middle East. Listen, we need your help now. I’ll explain everything later.”

Craig didn’t sound happy, but he agreed to do whatever they requested. Nick called his office and arranged for one of the Agency’s electronic surveillance experts to send a virus through Craig’s computer that would allow the technician to access Aldrich Securities’ database. Once the CIA technician was able to get into Spencer Drake’s computer, they may be able to locate a link between Aldrich and either the attempts on Parker’s and Erika’s lives or the oil fiasco currently unfolding.

“Will you be able to use any of that information in court?” Erika asked as soon as Nick hung up. “It can’t be legal to hack their database like that.”

Nick’s eyes were rock hard. “I don’t plan on giving Mr. Drake his day in court. Neither should you if he sent those two killers today.”

She said nothing, her expression mirroring Nick’s stony visage.

“Maybe we’ll find out how those two guys knew we were at Joe’s,” Parker said as a terrible thought flashed into his head. “You don’t think they have us bugged, do you?”

“I’ve had a sweeping device activated since you sat in this car. It hasn’t found anything, and it’s a damn good one, so you’re clean.”

“Then how did they know where to find us?”

“My guess is they either found the police report from your uncle’s murder or searched property records. Think about it. Whoever is doing this knows you’re with Erika. They stake out her apartment and her office in case you go there. She has no relatives in the city to worry about. You, however,” Nick said, pointing at Parker, “are the proud owner of an apartment in Rittenhouse. Any idiot with half a brain could find it and send a stakeout team.”

Parker smacked the dashboard. “I never even considered that. So you think they were waiting for us?”

“I think you two dodged a bullet. You have to be more careful until we figure out what’s going on, which is why I’m taking you to my place for the time being. No one knows you’re with me, so you should be safe there.”

Ahead, the towering walls of the Eastern State Penitentiary loomed over the road.

Parker shared a glance with Erika. What did they have to lose?

“Where do you—”

Parker’s skull slammed off the window. Glass shattered into a thousand tiny pieces as his head filled with a roaring pain. Erika shrieked from the backseat as they slammed into a row of parked cars that lined the street. A small convertible in front of them was pushed aside. Parker didn’t understand why Nick was hammering the gas.

It was only when he realized the roar in his ears was coming from a massive Suburban behind them that he knew this was no accident. Nick twisted the wheel, fighting to regain control. “Hang on. They’re trying to crush us!”

Nick was right. The massive black vehicle was still pushing, tires squealing on the roadway as Nick’s much smaller sedan was pushed toward the thick stone walls ahead. He was standing on the brake pedal to no avail.

Three rapid blasts filled the car. Parker’s ears rang, and he turned with a sense of dread, expecting to find Erika bleeding in the rear seat.

Instead, she was twisted around to face their attackers, gun in hand, firing rapidly. The rear window had shattered, and several spider web cracks blossomed on the Suburban’s windshield.

As he watched, a gun appeared from the Suburban’s passenger window. “Get down,” Parker shouted, just as the muzzle flashed twice.

One rear window shattered. Fortunately, no one was hit.

“I can’t stop,” Nick yelled. “That thing’s too big.”

Nick was struggling with the wheel in one hand, his pistol in the other.

“Parker, follow me.”

“Where?” They were all stuck in this car. There was nowhere to go.

Nick ignored his shouted question. Through the gunshots, he could barely make out the next words.

“Bring Erika.”

The sedan’s engine roared as Nick let off the brake and punched the gas. As he did so, the gear shifter was slammed into reverse. Now pushing back, the mangled sedan was able to put up a fight and their inevitable progress to the unforgiving stone wall slowed.

Nick immediately twisted the wheel sharply to his left. With the engine screaming, Nick’s sedan shifted so that the Suburban’s front end scraped across their passenger side, Parker’s face only inches from the screeching metal.

Without the sedan pushing back, the black vehicle behind them shot forward and slammed into the prison walls. Parker turned to see Nick dive out of his door, hitting the sidewalk in a barrel roll.

“Come on.”

Parker grabbed Erika’s shoulder just as her magazine ran out of bullets. They followed Nick out onto the sidewalk and crouched behind the battered sedan for cover.

“You guys all right?” Nick asked, back against his ruined car.

They each nodded.

“I think I hit the driver.” Erika ducked her head under the car, looking for feet. “Right before we got out.”

“That’s why he’s still gunning the engine.”

A tremendous roar came from the wrecked Suburban as it continued to push against the massive stone wall.

“Two of them just got out. Both on the far side.”

As she spoke, the engine cut off, deafening silence filling the void. Parker shook his head to clear the ringing from Erika’s shots inside the government car.

His voice a whisper, Nick motioned to the stone wall on their right. “I’ll go that way. You two head left, sweep around their rear. If you have a shot, take it.”

Parker took the lead, Erika trailing behind. “Stay behind me and keep your head down.”

Erika could be reckless, but she wasn’t stupid. Parker had been shooting his entire life and had a much better chance of hitting their target.

Crouched low, Parker darted from behind Nick’s bullet-riddled car onto the road, keeping the smashed-up convertible between himself and the Suburban. Two kids on skateboards who had been inspecting the vehicular carnage saw his gun and bolted, their wheels skimming across the sidewalk at high speed.

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