Fake: The Scarab Beetle Series: #3 (The Academy) (3 page)

I didn’t totally understand what was going on. What kind of hacking was Corey roped up in? Is that what he does?

How did these Germans find out?

“And if I do this, you’ll leave us alone?” Brandon asked.

“We’ll even give you a percentage.”

“I don’t want it,” Brandon said quickly.

The German shrugged and I got hit by a beam of light as he moved. I was going to go blind tonight.

“If you say so. If you don’t do what we ask, we’ve got you, and we’ll find your girlfriend and will make sure neither of you get back home. We’re really good at that.”

The car returned. A voice spoke, even though a car door didn’t open. “She’s not in the street from here until the Mark Clark. Either she’s dead from flying off the bride on the way here because she jumped early, or she’s already hitched a ride and is on her way back. Or maybe she called the police. It’ll take more than two of us to find her.

“Don’t worry about her. You can’t use her to get to me. It won’t work. This whole thing is pointless,” Brandon said, his voice rising. “How am I supposed to get anywhere close to the core?”

“We emailed you before. You should know. Or did you trash it without reading it? You really should pay attention to your email,” the German said.

“What do you want me to do? Sneeze on the fucking thing?” Brandon yelled at him. “I’ve got my hands tied, and the moment they’re free, I’ll be swinging. Because that's about as much as I’ll do for you.”

“You do realize we could kill you,” the guy said.

“Don’t give a shit,” Brandon said. “Supposedly you need me for the core, so you’re not going to kill me while I can still be useful. And I know your face and could track you down after, which means you’ll more than likely kill me after I do the job anyway. So I do the job, get you what you want, and then die, or I die early without you getting what you want. Seems like I’ll go with both of us not getting what we want.”

“We’ll find her. We could do a lot of things to her.”

“I doubt it. You don’t know her. She’s a million miles from here by now. She knows better and doesn’t give a shit about me to stick around. You won’t get close to her again.”

I gulped at the irony, considering I was watching the scene from only a few feet away.

“Don’t worry,” the German said. “We found her once. She’ll call the police and we’ll find her again. She’ll call your pals, and we’ll find her. Any way you look at it, we’ll have her soon, so you may as well assume we’ve already got her.”

Calling the police means they’ve got me?

“I’m not helping you,” Brandon said. “You don’t have shit. And your job is impossible. Just walk away now before anyone gets hurt. Untie me.”

“Thought you were smarter than that,” the German said. He turned to his pals. “Let’s move, gentlemen. If that girl finds his brother, it won’t be long before they get here with help. She’s probably on her way to that apartment. We’ll get someone in the lobby to keep an eye on those friends. Maybe we’ll find his brother, too.” His shape against the light loomed closer to Brandon. “Think that will be enough leverage?”

Brandon struggled against his bindings, yelling and cursing. I felt the wave of his anger even from the distance.

 The lights suddenly went out. The darkness swallowed them up. My eyes strained to adjust.

When they did, Brandon was gone from the couch, I could hear him yelling and fighting. They dropped him to the ground and then there was a spark from a Taser. Brandon went rigid, helpless.

They picked him up again and shoved him into the back seat of the car. No chance to jump now.

I looked for an opening, but in the shadows, I knew there were too many of them for me to fight. I had tied hands and a cell phone with no one to call. My anger made me want to shout and make them eat the cell phone and save Brandon, but I knew that I couldn’t take on four of them with Brandon down for the moment. I had no backup coming.

They piled into the car. I couldn’t leave Brandon. I ran as hard as I could to the street. The adrenaline running through my veins made me feel like I could outrun them, keep up and follow them to the next location.

How long would it take for them to figure out he wasn’t Corey?

Brandon wasn’t about to let them know they’d made a mistake. He was saving Corey from this, just like he’d saved me. Sacrificing himself. Giving me enough time to call the police after him and those goons before they came after Corey, or me.

I couldn’t let that happen. They seemed to be in with the police somehow, since they said calling them would lead them to me. Was one of them a cop?

The car turned off the road before I could get too close. I caught the plate number, the make; it was similar to the German’s car before. It turned, and was gone down the street within seconds.

I was alone. For a moment, I dazed out. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been running without thinking, just to keep up with what was going on. But now it weighed on me so much that I sunk down to my knees, ignoring the pain as the asphalt ripped my flesh. My butt was still sore, my skin scraped. None of it mattered, but I still felt every little cut and bruise. They were throbbing reminders of what had just happened.

Brandon. My heart ached so much. He’d made sure I’d escaped. He should have jumped with me. He should have jumped first. We could have made it.

Why didn’t I hear them coming?

How was I going to find him?
 

INTRODUCING THE MAGICIAN

P
anic filled in my heart, threatening to take over. Instinct told me to steal a car and go after them.

But my hands were still bound, and I wasn’t sure where I’d find a car in this broken-down district. Still, I needed to act fast if I was going to help myself or Brandon. Rage bubbled inside me, but I smothered it as best as I could to focus and try to formulate a plan.

I touched the cell phone, holding it close to my chest. I was tempted to try and call their bluff about the police. I could tell them the make, the plate, and say they were swerving all over the road, and get them picked up by the cops. The cops would find Brandon in the trunk. The only problem was, even if they were bluffing, if I called the police and they swarmed the area, these bad guys might take it out on Brandon before the police got to him.

Right now, I had a slight advantage. It wasn’t much of one, considering I was still tied up and lost. Being where they didn’t expect, though, maybe was enough. I knew it was the German, and I knew a bit about their plans. Whatever Murdock’s Core was, Corey would know about it, and then we could find them. Somehow.

I waited by the street for a while, trying to figure out my next move and working to undo the knot on my wrists.

But as I struggled, I couldn’t twist my hands around far enough and needed both hands to undo the knot. I knelt on the grass and twisted the bindings on my ankles until I could get them off, keeping the rope. I didn’t have a weapon, so hanging on to anything I could seemed like a good idea.

I stepped up to the open garage doorway. From what I could tell, besides the lamps and the couch, which looked like it’d been picked up by the side of the road, the whole place was empty. Maybe it wasn’t even theirs. I was surprised the electricity still worked, until I circled the inside of the place and nearly tripped over the generator behind the couch.

A cop could probably try to trace the generator and the lights, but I suspected they’d turn up stolen or untraceable. I would cover my tracks, if I were a kidnapper and had planned this. There was nothing here to go on. Fingerprints, maybe, but if they had a cop on their team… And it would take time to search a database. I wasn’t sure how much time I had.

I padded back outside. The road was clear. The other buildings surrounding it looked dilapidated. I checked my phone, three in the morning.

I couldn’t read anything else on the phone other than numbers. It was all in what I assumed was German.

I had a limited amount of time before Mack Truck figured out I had his phone and found a way to trace it back. If Corey could do it, I knew these guys could.

I jogged to the end of the street, checking the signs. I didn’t recognize either of the streets I was on. There was no way to tell how close I was to anything remotely populated. This abandoned warehouse district was probably crawling with hobos.

I checked the phone again, staring at it, then thought of the settings. I found the language, and changed it to English.

The phone wouldn’t translate the text messages, but I at least could use the GPS and internet to get a location.

And I stared in horror when it told me I was smack in the middle of a very abandoned, very dangerous part of North Charleston.

I stopped walking, checking out the neighborhood. North Charleston wasn’t a place to mess around. One wrong move and I wouldn’t have to worry about the German anymore. The locals—gang members or hobos—would be happy to murder me.

I hurried along the street, sticking to the shadows. I wouldn’t stand a chance with even a drunk old man right now with my arms tied together. I needed to keep walking.

I watched behind me as I picked a direction and started out. I couldn’t spot anyone tailing me, but I didn’t know the area and I didn’t want to risk it in case the German left one of his pals nearby just in case.

I needed a place to go that was safe. I used the phone as I walked and checked the GPS and surrounding areas. I searched for a Wal-Mart, a 24-hour gas station, anything that would be better than the street and abandoned buildings.

I picked a direction that seemed likely to run into something open. While I was walking, I tried to figure out how to contact the boys. I was miles from the Sergeant Jasper and the German was ahead of me. If he got his goons to watch the building, I’d get kidnapped again. I needed help. Outside help.

As soon as I was at a building that I could identify, I called for a cab.

Cab companies are one of the best non-official security teams you will ever have on your side. Ever worry about someone following you late at night? Call a cab. They not only show up right on time, but they’re usually faster and the drivers are fearless.

I didn’t have any money, but I hoped the driver would be sympathetic to my cause. I’d need whoever it was to fetch Marc for me. If the German was watching the building, I couldn’t go inside. But if the cab driver wanted to get paid, he would have to take a short walk upstairs.

Waiting was hard. I bounced from foot to foot to keep warm. The chill was getting to me now that the shock was wearing off. I forced back thoughts of Brandon, telling myself he was fine right now. From the sound of it, they needed to get into some building for him to access whatever it was they needed him to do. They needed him, and as long as they thought he was Corey, he was safe. Hopefully he kept his attitude in check long enough that they didn’t shoot him before we got to him. I just needed to hurry. These Academy guys were like the CIA: smart, efficient and all that spy stuff. They’d tracked me down with a math formula. Corey could find the German. I just needed to find
them
.

My feet became sore the longer I scraped my bare feet against the concrete. Wearing nothing but the boxers Corey let me borrow for going to bed, along with a thin T-shirt, I knew I’d appear to be a mess for a cab.

Down the road, a cab turned onto the empty road and headed my way. I was surprised to find the vehicle was nothing more than an old red town car with a sign on top like a pizza delivery vehicle, except this had the cab company’s phone number. Apparently I called the cut-rate cabs. Really, it was a red boat of a car. I couldn’t believe it still moved.

The driver leaned out the open window. He had a wide face with a thin line of dark hair along the jaw and chin trimmed into a stylish beard. He was young, my age or somewhere close. He had dark eyes, a short crop of brown hair. I could peer into the window opening. He was a little on the lean side, and from around a Hawaiian shirt and tank underneath that, there was a tattoo peeking out at the chest. It took me a moment to identify it was
I Am What I
Am
in a fancy font. His wide eyes stared at me, blank, most likely stoned. Still, had to respect a man that respected Popeye.

“You pick up?” he asked.

I nodded, and felt like an idiot opening my own door. I had to put the phone in my mouth to do it. Was he new to town? Didn’t he know he had to open doors for girls? But then he was a cab driver and I was a barefoot girl in an abandoned warehouse district out in the middle of nowhere. He probably thought I was high or a hooker. He probably didn’t want an ambush.

Plus, I had bound hands. That probably didn’t do much to impress him.

I fell into the back seat, feeling my bones switch from vibrate to sudden stop since I’d been on edge for so long. I breathed in the musty old car and coughed.

The guy twisted around, looking back at me. He did a visual sweep. “What’s wrong with your wrists?”

“Tied up,” I said. “I was kidnapped. I escaped.”

His eyes widened more. “No shit?” He shook his head. “You okay?”