thoughts. His family was
resourceful and they had a plan of their own in case all hell broke loose.
He entered a brief message on the site, saying he was alive
and on the run. Then he steered the Land Rover back into traffic and sped
toward the South Bay.
They were less than a block away from the Redondo Beach Pier
when Jake saw the first set of flashing emergency lights. He pulled over and
turned off the motor, his insides twisting.
“Give me five minutes,” he said, getting out of the car.
“If I’m not back by then, get the hell out of here.” He turned and raced down
the parking ramp. He spotted the distant crowds as soon as he exited onto the
lower boardwalk, his heart racing faster than his feet as he sprinted past the
restaurants and shops and fishing boats, toward the cordoned-off throng
surrounding the arcade. Several emergency vehicles were parked nearby.
Paramedics pushed a gurney toward an ambulance; the adult male victim had a
breathing cup over his mouth. Another pair of techs huddled over a figure
sprawled on the ground inside the arcade.
Jake shouldered through the gawkers to get a better look,
stopping at the line imposed by several police officers. One of the EMTs
shifted and Jake saw that the body on the ground belonged to an Asian man who appeared
to be cut from the same cloth as those who had attacked him at the hospital. A
pool of blood shimmered beside the body.
“What happened here?” he asked the woman standing next to him.
“Not sure. It was about forty minutes ago. I was at Naja’s
and heard a gunshot.”
“Two gunshots,” someone else said.
“I don’t think the guy they’re taking away in the ambulance
was shot,” a third person offered. “But he was out cold.”
Jake searched the scene. There were no signs of his family,
but he noticed a teenage boy being interviewed by two detectives. The kid had
shaggy blond hair and wore board shorts and flip-flops. Jake sidled over to get
within earshot.
“There were three of them,” the shirtless teen said. “They
all had backpacks. The older one fought them hard. I don’t know his name, but I
recognized him. He likes to surf the cove. He kinda looks Middle Eastern.”
Jake stopped breathing. The teen had to be speaking about
Ahmed.
The kid continued, “The girl’s scream brought Scott—he’s the
arcade manager—charging from the back. He slammed into the asshole holding the
gun. They went rolling and the pistol came free. That’s when the older kid
grabbed it and shot the man. Boom, boom. Two shots to the chest like he’d been
doing it his whole life. But he had to drop the gun when one of the other guys
held a knife against the little kid’s throat. The girl stopped fighting, Scott
got clubbed over the head, and the Asian dudes shoved all three kids into the
van and took off.”
Jake’s heart sank. The fact that Francesca wasn’t here
suggested she’d been taken as well, probably right after she sent out the alert
message.
There was a commotion around the cop cars and one of the
uniformed officers rushed over to the two detectives. “They found the van at
LAX,” he reported. “At one of the private terminals.”
The airport? They could be anywhere.
Jake shrank back into the crowd, his eyes panning for
threats. Someone might have spotted him already. He ducked into the shadows of
the parking garage and raced for the exit.
Jake ran, slowing only long enough to call a buddy who
worked in air traffic control at LAX.
“I need a favor,” he said, and then explained what he was
looking for.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” his friend said.
Jake ended the call and picked up his pace.
How can I possibly find them on my own?
Ever since he’d avoided direct contact with the tiny alien
pyramid he’d found years earlier, his superfast reflexes had disappeared. His
ability to communicate telepathically with his family had degraded as well. He
was still able to influence thoughts and emotions to some extent in
resourceful and they had a plan of their own in case all hell broke loose.
He entered a brief message on the site, saying he was alive
and on the run. Then he steered the Land Rover back into traffic and sped
toward the South Bay.
They were less than a block away from the Redondo Beach Pier
when Jake saw the first set of flashing emergency lights. He pulled over and
turned off the motor, his insides twisting.
“Give me five minutes,” he said, getting out of the car.
“If I’m not back by then, get the hell out of here.” He turned and raced down
the parking ramp. He spotted the distant crowds as soon as he exited onto the
lower boardwalk, his heart racing faster than his feet as he sprinted past the
restaurants and shops and fishing boats, toward the cordoned-off throng
surrounding the arcade. Several emergency vehicles were parked nearby.
Paramedics pushed a gurney toward an ambulance; the adult male victim had a
breathing cup over his mouth. Another pair of techs huddled over a figure
sprawled on the ground inside the arcade.
Jake shouldered through the gawkers to get a better look,
stopping at the line imposed by several police officers. One of the EMTs
shifted and Jake saw that the body on the ground belonged to an Asian man who appeared
to be cut from the same cloth as those who had attacked him at the hospital. A
pool of blood shimmered beside the body.
“What happened here?” he asked the woman standing next to him.
“Not sure. It was about forty minutes ago. I was at Naja’s
and heard a gunshot.”
“Two gunshots,” someone else said.
“I don’t think the guy they’re taking away in the ambulance
was shot,” a third person offered. “But he was out cold.”
Jake searched the scene. There were no signs of his family,
but he noticed a teenage boy being interviewed by two detectives. The kid had
shaggy blond hair and wore board shorts and flip-flops. Jake sidled over to get
within earshot.
“There were three of them,” the shirtless teen said. “They
all had backpacks. The older one fought them hard. I don’t know his name, but I
recognized him. He likes to surf the cove. He kinda looks Middle Eastern.”
Jake stopped breathing. The teen had to be speaking about
Ahmed.
The kid continued, “The girl’s scream brought Scott—he’s the
arcade manager—charging from the back. He slammed into the asshole holding the
gun. They went rolling and the pistol came free. That’s when the older kid
grabbed it and shot the man. Boom, boom. Two shots to the chest like he’d been
doing it his whole life. But he had to drop the gun when one of the other guys
held a knife against the little kid’s throat. The girl stopped fighting, Scott
got clubbed over the head, and the Asian dudes shoved all three kids into the
van and took off.”
Jake’s heart sank. The fact that Francesca wasn’t here
suggested she’d been taken as well, probably right after she sent out the alert
message.
There was a commotion around the cop cars and one of the
uniformed officers rushed over to the two detectives. “They found the van at
LAX,” he reported. “At one of the private terminals.”
The airport? They could be anywhere.
Jake shrank back into the crowd, his eyes panning for
threats. Someone might have spotted him already. He ducked into the shadows of
the parking garage and raced for the exit.
Jake ran, slowing only long enough to call a buddy who
worked in air traffic control at LAX.
“I need a favor,” he said, and then explained what he was
looking for.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” his friend said.
Jake ended the call and picked up his pace.
How can I possibly find them on my own?
Ever since he’d avoided direct contact with the tiny alien
pyramid he’d found years earlier, his superfast reflexes had disappeared. His
ability to communicate telepathically with his family had degraded as well. He
was still able to influence thoughts and emotions to some extent in
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