A Powerless World | Book 1 | Escape The Breakdown Read online

  With so many travelers to wade through, and trying to keep a firm grip on her, he wouldn’t be able to take Kane with him. Instead, he brought down the windows to make sure there was plenty of air and then assisted Alicia with getting out.

  He opened the door and had her lean forward. Her wrists were cuffed behind her back but she’d been complaining that it was hurting her arms. He usually kept them cuffed that way to avoid any issues but he didn’t expect much from her. “Don’t give me any hassle. You hear me?”

  She nodded.

  Colby released the cuffs then put them on again though now her arms weren’t behind her back. He then told her to swing her legs out. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said, remaining in the seat.

  “No but the pay is good, so let’s go.” He waved for her to get out.

  “There’s time to change your mind.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Please.”

  “You had a simple agreement to follow.”

  “They haven’t told you, have they?”

  “Told me what?”

  “Why they want me.”

  “Lady, I don’t care. Tomorrow I’ll bring in another, then the day after that another. It’s all the same. Another face. Another…”

  “Paycheck. Yeah, I got it,” she said, swinging her legs out. He studied her face as he shut the door and told Kane he would be right back. Five minutes top. A quick jaunt over to the terminal and he’d be on his way. Smooth sailing.

  They walked in silence. It felt uncomfortable. He didn’t like fugitives minimizing his career down to a paycheck but at the end of the day, it was a business.

  “Listen, you had simple rules to follow. You must attend all scheduled court dates, not leave the state of Washington, not get re-arrested, physically report in once a week and confirm all contact numbers. So I’ve gotta ask. What part of that wasn’t clear?”

  “The ‘you must,’” she said, not looking at him. He chuckled. It was the kind of response he might have given.

  It didn’t take long to reach the terminal. They passed a slew of travelers wearing masks because of the pandemic that had rampaged across the globe, leading to doubt, confusion, and further protests over human rights. It was complete madness. Despite the regional stay-at-home order to combat the surge of cases and prevent hospitals from overloading, the new restrictions on travel hadn’t stopped people from flying, filling the streets, or rioting. It had only gotten worse. Outside the terminal, they saw a large group of unmasked protesters holding signs and causing a general commotion further down. Several of them kept blasting airhorns, irritating everyone. It was deafening. LAX police were too busy trying to deal with that to notice him slide in with her handcuffed. Although he had all the paperwork, he didn’t want any more delays.

  “How much are you getting paid?” she asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Just curious. Wondering what I’m worth.”

  “I usually get 10 percent, and it’s not great, but it appears you’re a hot-ticket item — so happy days.”

  He shouldered the door and entered the lit-up airport. Travelers passed by, avoiding him like the plague as they carted luggage. Colby stopped and got on the phone again but this time Carl didn’t answer. “Pick up, you moron.”

  Again. No luck. It went to voicemail.

  “Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe you should.”

  Colby ignored her and opted to send Carl a text message.

  Where are you?

  A few seconds later, he replied.

  The text came back with directions and so they continued. When they found the restroom, he texted again and Carl said he would be right out. A few minutes passed. Alicia didn’t take her eyes off him. “Take a photo, it might last longer,” he said, ignoring her.

  “I’m just wondering why you’re doing this line of work.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? It’s an honest living.”

  “Yeah, for someone who can’t become a cop.”

  “Already done that.”

  “You were a cop?”

  He sighed, glanced around, and muttered under his breath. “Come on, Carl.”

  “Says a lot then.”

  “About?”

  “The reason you don’t give a damn.”

  He scoffed. “What, because cops don’t care?”

  “Most don’t.”

  “Well, Alicia, it does go a long way if you don’t break the law,” he replied.

  “I never did.”

  “Right, of course, you didn’t.” He craned his neck every time he heard someone else come out. As he pulled her toward the opening, she resisted.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “What’s it look like? I can’t leave you out here. I need to check on him.”

  They reached the opening and Colby shouted in. “Carl. It’s Colby. Hurry up.”

  No answer. A few more minutes and he lost his patience.

  “Come on,” he said, pulling her into the restroom.

  All the silver stalls were open barring three. Pot lights on the ceiling outside each one were illuminated green except for the two nearest them, and one at the end which was red. “Carl, I’m gonna handcuff her to the stall and slide the key under. I gotta get going.”

  No reply.

  “You can’t leave me in here,” Alicia said.

  “Watch me,” he replied.

  Upon reaching the first closed-door he knocked and someone coughed to indicate it was occupied and he had the wrong stall. Maybe the next? Before he reached it, someone came out of the second stall and sidestepped him, giving Alicia a disturbed expression. He looked as if he was about to say something but Colby flashed the badge attached to his belt and the guy headed out.

  They reached the last door.

  “Carl?” He gave the door a bang but got no reply. Through the thin gap on one side of the door, he could just make out his jacket. Crouching revealed large black shoes under the door. “Carl, come on, man. You’ll miss your flight.” He banged on the door again but Carl never said a word.

  Colby glanced back toward the exit and got this sinking feeling in his gut.

  He went into the stall beside Carl’s and stood on the toilet seat to look over.

  As he did, his eyes widened.

  Carl’s neck had been slit.

  Blood soaked his shirt and was dripping off his left hand from where he was slumped to one side.

  No sooner had he stepped out of the stall than the light at the far end of the restroom above the first stall blinked from red to green and a large, imposing man with a granite jaw and buzz cut stepped out.

  Alicia stepped back behind Colby and he noted her expression of fear.

  The man glanced their way, then lifted a phone to show them the screen before tossing it across the floor toward him.

  Colby stopped it with his foot.

  It was Carl’s. The same text messages he’d sent.

  A large Kizlyar knife slowly slid out from the man’s sleeve. He tapped the blade against his right thigh while offering a deadpan expression.

  It was a ballsy move.

  It made sense.

  No cameras inside a restroom.

  No guns going off.

  No arrest.

  Another man appeared in the opening of the exit, this one wearing a cleaner’s outfit. He set a yellow sign down to make it clear to those entering that the restroom was closed for cleaning then he walked out, leaving them with the menacing man. He cracked his head from side to side and rolled his shoulders to limber up.

  This guy must have been a complete idiot if he thought he was about to go toe-to-toe without using extreme measures.

  In an instant, as Colby reached for the handgun beneath his jacket, the man threw the knife. Colby darted sideways, shouldering Alicia into the stall as he extracted the Glock.

  The knife clattered as it slipped across the tiled floor.

  With the d
oor still open, Colby used the mirror on the wall to get a bead on him before opening fire. Two rounds. The attacker dove for cover in the nearest stall.

  Silence followed.

  Colby hoped the echo of gunfire would catch the attention of a passerby, LAX police, or airport staff. He figured it would act as a deterrent.

  The guy, whoever the hell he was, would make a dash for it and it would be over.

  It wasn’t.

  He saw in the mirror a handgun being withdrawn.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Colby muttered.

  They stared at each other using the long mirror across from the stalls. There were at least ten steel stalls between him and the attacker.

  The heavyset man slowly brought his hand out. He opened fire, creating cover while he moved into the next stall, closing the gap between them.

  Colby knew the best thing to do was remain where he was. Darting out would have been pure suicide. His mind ran amuck.

  It was only a matter of time. Someone would hear. They had to. His thoughts returned to the protesters, the deafening air horns. He grunted in frustration as he closed the door.

  “What are you doing?” Alicia said.

  “Thinking. Okay? Just give me a second.”

  But they didn’t have seconds.

  “He could shoot us through the stall,” she said.

  “Double panel steel. Doubt it.”

  They’d gone into the stall beside Carl.

  Outside Colby heard boots calmly walking toward the stall.

  Heart pounding, adrenaline surging through his veins, he pushed Alicia back into the corner of the cramped stall. Her whole body was shaking, eyes bulging, breathing hard.

  Crouching, Colby tried to get a better look at where the guy was. Sticking his head above the stall would have been a bad idea.

  Sure enough, he saw the bottom of his boots.

  He’d stopped.

  He was just standing there, two stalls down.

  What are you doing?

  “I’ve called the cops!” Alicia bellowed.

  Colby smirked. Like that was going to help them.

  No movement.

  Nothing.

  He aimed and fired a round at the boot.

  The boot tipped over and it was then he realized he’d slipped out of it. Suddenly, Alicia let out a scream.

  Colby looked up to see a handgun coming over the top of the stall.

  Exploding upward, he grabbed the guy’s wrist and slammed it against the back wall while firing a round under his chin.

  The upper half of his body sank over, motionless.

  Hanging there, blood dripping.

  His heart galloped fast.

  Without wasting a second, they unlocked the door and stumbled out of the stall, making a beeline for the entrance.

  As they burst out of the restroom, he nearly plowed into two airport security guys.

  “Drop the gun!”

  “Get on the floor now!”

  Youngsters. No older than twenty. Trigger-happy.

  “Okay, okay, don’t shoot…” Colby was just about to do exactly what they said when out of the blue someone opened fire, two rounds erupted back-t0-back and both security guys collapsed.

  Grabbing hold of Alicia, he bellowed, “Stay low and run!”

  Panic ensued. Traveler’s scattered. Screams dominated. Rounds echoed loudly. For a second, he thought the shooter was firing at him but it was security returning fire at a gunman.

  He wasn’t alone.

  Shards rained down as bullets shattered glass around them, and travelers screamed, heading for exits.

  Most of the police outside were distracted by out-of-control protesters. Someone had unleashed smoke grenades into the crowd, riling them up and turning the peaceful protest into complete chaos.

  No wonder there wasn’t more backup.

  The guy in the stall wasn’t alone, this was a strategic ambush.

  Staying low, they ran for the exit as rounds obliterated the airport.

  Colby watched four innocent bystanders get cut down in a hail of gunfire. They hid among the scared who were streaming out.

  Pure terror took over. People were screaming. Several were trampled. As soon as they were outside, they made a beeline for the terminal parking.

  It was pure pandemonium. There were far more protesters now than when they went in.

  “Who the hell was that?” Colby asked.

  “Bratva,” Alicia said.

  “Russians?”

  “I told you to let me go.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” He pushed her forward, still cuffed, as he glanced back at the terminal. Several large tattooed guys exited, hiding weapons below their coats as they crossed the road in pursuit.

  “Move!”

  He figured unleashing a few rounds at them would get the attention of the cops, and cause them to return fire, so that’s what he did.

  Colby squeezed off two rounds.

  Sure enough, several cops looked over as the Russians pulled their weapons. A slew of gunfire was exchanged between cops and the Russians, buying him some time as they made their way back to the SUV.

  While the chorus of rapid-fire dominated, he saw multiple black cars screech to a standstill outside the terminal.

  Guys in suits hopped out and immediately opened fire on the Russians who were packing far more heat than these guys.

  One of them bit the dust, while the other took cover.

  All hell had broken loose.

  They hurried into the illuminated terminal parking.

  Kane looked at them hurrying toward the vehicle. He barked loudly.

  Colby hit the fob to open the SUV, then forced her into the passenger side. “Take these off,” she said, extending her hands.

  “Like hell.”

  He hopped in and started the engine and was about to reverse when two black SUVs rolled up behind him.

  “Get your head down!” Colby knew the second they got out, his vehicle would be riddled with rounds.

  He slammed his foot on the accelerator, driving the SUV back into the front ends of the vehicles, not lifting his foot for even a second.

  The crash of metal and glass was deafening.

  They jolted forward in their seats as he stuck it into drive and pulled forward. He yanked the wheel and peeled out, swerving erratically around an oncoming vehicle, then veering down the slope to level two.

  Kane was barking up a storm in the back.

  Excitement, shock, all of it spiking at once.

  The way ahead was clear as they came barreling down onto the first floor. His body bouncing in the seat.

  As Colby swerved out of the slope and straightened — up ahead was a lone gunman standing in the middle of the gangway, calm, pistol raised at the ready.

  He didn’t slow. He didn’t hesitate.

  “Stay down,” he yelled as he gunned the engine and went straight for the guy.

  Rounds lanced the windshield, pinging off the large dog cage in the back.

  Colby didn’t see if the guy had jumped out of the way until he heard gunfire from behind. He popped up and swerved out, smashing straight through the exit barrier gate.

  “Kane.”

  The dog barked and he glanced back to make sure he was still okay.

  The cage was designed in such a way that the far walls didn’t touch the inside so if a vehicle T-boned them, his partner would be reasonably safe. “You okay, buddy?”

  “The dog, or me?” Alicia asked.

  Colby was in no mood for jokes. As soon as he managed to get on La Cienega Boulevard heading for Interstate 10, Colby got on the phone to Manny. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on? Carl is dead.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Heading north on La Cienega Boulevard.”

  “You still have her?”

  “Do I still have her? Manny, I’ve had a knife thrown at me, been shot at, had to kill some guy in a stall, and my dog was nearly killed, and you ask
me, do I still have her?” he bellowed.

  “Do you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Listen, the mission has been compromised. Ditch the woman.”

  Manny was an ex-army guy who still hadn’t let go of the old days. He was frequently in the habit of referring to every collection as a mission as though it was some highly covert operation.

  “Ditch the woman? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You want to live?”

  “I want to get paid! Manny, you sonofabitch, you better start talking and fast.”

  “The feds are involved.”

  “And the Russians?”

  “They showed up?” he asked in surprise.

  “Manny!”

  “Okay, okay! I was going to tell you earlier but I figured you might be able to get her on that flight before they got there. I delayed them as much as I could but…”

  “You listen to me, you low-life heap of garbage. I’m bringing her in. You’re paying me, then she’s your problem after that.”

  “No, no, don’t bring her back here. Listen to me, Colby—”

  Suddenly, the line went dead.

  For a second Colby thought the asshole had hung up on him but at the same time the screen of his phone went blank, the digital readings on his dashboard behind the steering wheel blinked out. The SUV had died. “What the hell?”

  “Colby!” Alicia bellowed, lifting her cuffed hands.

  Distracted from gazing down, he didn’t notice the long line of vehicles had come to an abrupt halt. Colby attempted to steer out of the way but the wheel had jammed.

  Rammed from behind, his vehicle clipped the car ahead. Jolted in their seats, the SUV veered over the center line just as a truck came careening toward them and smashed into the front end.

  FOUR

  The collision was as violent as it was loud. Metal crunched, glass shattered, and gravel spat as Colby’s Chevy Tahoe took the full brunt of the colliding truck.

  The whiplash was brutal, searing his skin.

  Slumped over the steering wheel, Colby came back, blinking, lifting his head, and feeling agony through his body. The world snapped back into view. Beyond a cracked windshield over the top of the crumpled mess, he saw lifeless eyes staring back through a plume of steam.