And then there was Michael Crouch. Such a larger-than-life figure, she didn’t have the time nor patience right now to think about him.
“Dawn’s breaking.” Austin pointed at the eastern horizon. “Should make it easier to track them.”
“Or harder.” Russo yawned. “And easier for them to see us.”
“Pessimist.”
Alicia tried to stave off the infectious yawn. “It’s the only thing he’s good at.”
The car ahead jammed its brakes on, and then swerved toward the side of the highway. It stopped briefly though Alicia, squinting, couldn’t see why as it stood in a pool of shadows made by overhanging trees, and then roared off once more, laying rubber down on the asphalt.
“What was all that—” Russo started to say.
“Slow down,” Caitlyn said.
“Yeah.” Alicia leaned forward, but Austin was already feathering the brakes, cutting the speed at a gradual rate.
Before they could make anything out, bullets started peppering the side of the car. The windshield exploded. Austin jammed on the brakes and then controlled the skid, letting the tail-end slide out. Now they could see the man on one knee, automatic weapon balanced and sighted on them. Alicia ducked as the side window imploded.
A tire burst, and then the rear of their car side-swiped the shooter, sending him flying backward into the air. The car tipped at that point, both tires now collapsed, and rolled over onto its roof. Alicia hung on, finding herself upside down, her eyes searching for the shooter.
Hopefully, he was dead.
He wasn’t. Limping, dragging one foot and clutching his chest, he staggered across to the place where his gun had come to rest. With difficulty, he tried to bend down to scoop it up.
Still upside down, Alicia aimed her handgun and shot him through the left temple. Finally, she looked around.
The fear on everyone’s face wasn’t for themselves, it was for the man they had now lost.
CHAPTER TEN
It was a somber few minutes as the team dragged themselves out of the wrecked vehicle. Caitlyn doubled over with a fit of coughing whilst Russo nursed a head wound, and Austin rubbed bruised knuckles. Alicia made sure they were all armed and that the shooter was dead before grabbing their attention.
“Crouch is gone. The thieves are gone. Our enemies… well, guess what?”
“The Star-Spangled Banner,” Caitlyn said quietly, “is gone.”
“We’re down, but not out,” Alicia said. “Did you get hold of the right feds?”
Caitlyn nodded. “Just as we crashed.”
“They still there?”
She shook her head, but then redialed the last number, reconnecting with the agent that had originally asked Crouch to join the security cordon around the Smithsonian. After a while she ended the call.
“It’s utter chaos back in DC. The press are making it worse, sensationalizing everything. Nobody even knows if anything was taken yet, and a few terrorists are still on the loose. It’s a house-to-house search, every man on the job. They’re sorry about Crouch and livid about the banner, but civilian safety comes first. One good thing though, if we get into any trouble with the cops he says he’ll vouch for us.”
Alicia wandered over to the side of the road and sat down on the grass-covered bank. “I don’t see a way forward.”
“Crouch is gone without a trace, and with no clues as to where he’s going.” Russo joined her. “We’re fu—”
“There’s always a chance,” Caitlyn said. “Don’t be so pessimistic. This reminds me of those movies where someone has to find a family member that went missing at a gas station or something, in the middle of nowhere.”
“What do you want us to do?” Austin asked. “Print flyers?”
“For a start,” Caitlyn said, “we can find out a little more about those damn thieves. And, guys, we need another car.”
“There was a gas station a mile back,” Austin said. “I guess I can acquire us one from there.”
Russo shook his head. “No more stealing.”
“It’s either that, or say bye-bye to Crouch. And the banner.”
Alicia helped Russo up and they started walking back down the highway, keeping to the low curb. Caitlyn used her cellphone to check into the history of Terri Lee and Paul Cutler during the eight-minute journey.
“Like we were told,” she said, “they’re ghosts. Yes, there are jobs attributed to them but no proof, no DNA. Not even a hair. The only reason they’re on the radar at all is because of their younger years working for and then against a couple of crime lords. Seems they served their time, learned their craft and then went solo.”
“And all that gets us precisely nowhere,” Russo grumbled.
As soon as they found the gas station, Alicia and Russo grabbed food and drinks whilst Austin scoped out the best car parked next door in the lot of a twenty-four-hour Waffle House. By the time they emerged he was waiting with the engine ticking over, calm at the wheel of a ten-year-old Cadillac CTS.
Alicia and Russo jumped in. The car roared off, back onto the highway, soon passing their old overturned vehicle and now following in the long gone tire marks of their enemies.
“Crouch said ‘chase the gold’. What the hell does that even mean?” Alicia asked.
“Don’t know, but they have to stop sometime,” Caitlyn said. “We’re on the right road.”
“Next gas station?” Austin punched it into the satnav. “Thirty miles.”
The knowledge made him push the gas pedal down just a little further.
“Just a slight problem,” Caitlyn said. “Between us and the next gas station is one rather large town. It does have a decent railway station.”
Alicia swore, but knew they couldn’t ignore it. “Quick diversion,” she said. “Can you see their ticket sales?”
“I don’t have the correct equipment with me,” Caitlyn said. “We were only called in to observe the museum. The cell’s nowhere near powerful enough and, even if we bought a laptop, we’d be at the railway station before I could do anything meaningful. Best bet?” She smiled. “Contact our friendly FBI agent.”
Alicia smiled. “Nice.”
“Can I ask?” Austin cut in before Caitlyn dialed. “This banner thing that was stolen from the museum. The banner that started all this. What the hell is it anyway?”
Caitlyn made the call first, asking for facial recognition and ticket information to be condensed and forwarded to her cell as soon as possible. The agent, of course knew the urgency of their situation and promised it quickly.
“The Star-Spangled Banner,” she said, “is the flag that flew over Fort McHenry in the war of 1812. During the Battle of Baltimore, Francis Scott Key saw the flag, and was inspired to write a poem he titled Defense of Fort M’Henry, which renamed the flag and later became the national anthem of the United States. It was a huge flag, prominent, a statement, inspiring all those that fought, the largest ever flown at the time. And it still inspires, I guess,” Caitlyn looked wistfully ahead, “in the form of a song.”
“Okay, I get it,” Austin said. “National pride and all that.”
Caitlyn nodded. “The fort withstood 5,000 British soldiers and nineteen ships for more than two days. In the end, the battered flag still flew and the British went away.”
“Here,” Alicia said a few moments later. “Park up there, Austin, close to the station. Russo — with me.”
They waited for the car to stop halfway along a quiet street and jumped out into a cold, ill-lit morning. Noise was at a minimum, just a few murmurs from one man talking into a cellphone as he passed. Alicia saw car lights ahead, moving around a parking area and sauntered toward the railway station with Russo at her side. As they neared a platform area and a bridge that crossed the tracks they smelled coffee and fresh baking, saw the stalls open ahead. The bright lighting illuminated every man, woman and child on both platforms.