Elgin’s Trial
By Mr. J.
Chapter XX: Escape and Evasion
“He’s going to come after us, you know.” Jill gently places her mug of cappuccino on the coffee table.
“The man you are referring to is in jail.” Tracy excuses herself to pour another cup. “As long as he stays there he isn’t a threat to anyone but himself.”
“Speak for yourself.” Jill cautions her. “He is a rich man. How do you know his lawyers haven’t posted bail?”
“Just because he is imprisoned doesn’t mean he’s not a danger to us.”
“What are you getting at?”
Jill looks away. Her lip trembles as she struggles to find the right words to express the complicated feelings. Her placid face shifts to a gloomy demeanor as she observes the traffic barreling down the street. Tracy looks on, half worried, half scared. But mostly confused.
“Remember that girl who-who died in the parking garage a few weeks ago?” Jill’s spits it out. “I was one of the people who helped kill her.”
Tracy turns a shade of red.
“You fucking bitch!” She grabs a knife from the drawer. “Give me one good reason not to kill you!”
Goosebumps spread along Jill’s arms as she feels the cold steel pressed against her skin. She steals a glance at the sharp object against her throat. If her new acquaintance suddenly decided to slash her throat and let her bleed out, she wouldn’t have much of an objection. Poetic justice and all.
“If you want to kill me, go ahead.” Her voice is surprisingly calm. “But you wouldn’t be any closer to finding out the truth. The real truth.”
Tracy backs off.
“About four months ago I was captured by Frank and his goons. They put me through an intense brainwashing, reinforced by a variety of sexual acts, none of which are mentionable in polite company. My only existence was to please and obey. I won’t lie, the intercourse was good—but that’s not all.”
“Go on.”
“A month into my servitude, I was given new orders and assigned to a team of fellow devotees. A series of existential threats had sprouted up which posed harm to us and the company. Our job was to eliminate those threats. We were in effect assassins, but strange as it may sound, my only concern was to protect my fellow brothers and sisters—Frank included.”
Jill takes a deep breath.
“The girl was an ex-devotee of the organization. My understanding was she hired a gang of hit men to come after us. Why a young woman would do such a thing is beyond me—but I went along with the story anyway. After we received a tip that she was going to meet certain co-conspirators in a local parking garage, I cased the joint for several days. The rest, as you sadly know, is history.”
Tracy’s hand trembles.
“That woman had a name.” She growls. “How could you?”
“That’s not the point of the story.” Jill remains collected. “The point is, if he can get to her and me, what’s to stop him from getting to you?”
Tracy steps back.
“Oh Jesus.” Her face is ashen. “Matt.”
“Who’s Matt?”
“I’m taking a shower.” Tracy runs toward the bathroom.
“Going somewhere?”
“I think someone’s life is in danger.”
As she scrubs the germs off her body, she can’t help but think of worst-case scenarios. What if he’s tied up? What if he’s got a gun to his head? What if he’s hurt in some way?
What if...he’s dead?
Her stomach twists. Acid washes against the back of her throat. Losing one of her best friends to Divinex’s murderous reign of terror is guilt enough. Losing another... She shakes her head violently, as if to banish the thought.
How could she have been so blinded by hate? Now one of her most trusted colleagues was about to die. All because of her desire to make Joanie’s killers pay. Waves of nausea wash over her—or is it remorse?
She falls to her knees as she steps out of the shower, cradling the toilet as she heaves. She wipes the vomit from her mouth and washes up. As she climbs into her khakis and buttons her white blouse, she whispers a prayer to the gods above: let Matt be safe.
“C’mon!” She motions Jill as she throws on her leather coat. “We got to go!”
“Where are we going?”
“No time to explain! Just follow me!”
Tracy frantically dials Matt’s number as she weaves in and out of traffic along the main artery leading into downtown. She grips the steering wheel firmly with one hand, hoping against hope that the jalopy of a car doesn’t break down suddenly. She grits her teeth.
“Please pick up the phone, please pick up the phone...” She laments as the call goes to voice mail. “Damn it!”
“What are trying to do? Kill us?” Jill admonishes her. “He’s probably out of the office.”
“Would you please shut up for a moment and let me think?” Tracy snaps at her.
She flashes back to Jeremy’s final moments with her. The cryptic text message. His bizarre behavior at the bar. The way he kissed her affectionately on the neck, as if saying goodbye.
She dials the number again. No luck.
“It could be a bad signal.” Jill counsels her. “Or the phone could have run out of juice.”
“Not Matt’s style.” Tracy shoots back. “He’s an investigative reporter. He wouldn’t turn his cell off for anything.”
The comment jogs something in the ex-assassin’s memory. That name...it sounds familiar. Where has she heard it before? Jill racks her brain.
Five minutes later, she’s still trying to figure it out.
Tracy drums her fingers against the steering wheel as she waits for traffic to lighten up. She honks the horn repeatedly, arousing the ire of motorists around her. A string of curses flows through her lips. The sudden urge to puff a cigarette wells within her.
Without warning, a vehicle slams into her from behind—a minivan of some sort. Tracy struggles to make out the owners through the tinted glass. It could be anyone—parent, carpoolers. Her knuckles turn a shade of white as her grip on the steering wheel turns ever tighter. She watches as a petite woman sashays toward them, hair bundled in a red scarf.
“What the hell!” The woman curses. “Look what you’ve done!”
“I apologize for the inconvenience, ma’am. My friend and I were just going to a meeting and...”
“Doesn’t matter.” Sunlight gleams off the woman’s dark sunglasses. “Do you know who I am?”
Tracy shakes her head.
“Just as well. Rest assured, you will soon as you hear from my attorney. After they’re done with you you’re going to wish you didn’t.”
“What seems to be the problem?”
“What seems to be the problem? YOU are. I clocked you going forty out there. What are you, a race car driver? I’m surprised you haven’t been stopped by the police. What are you doing with a car anyway?”
“Do you want to see my identification?” Tracy squints her eyes. “I got it in the dashboard...”
“Don’t need to.”
“Then how are you going to settle your claim if you don’t have my insurance?”
“Who said I was going to settle?”
Tracy tenses up. First the woman rear ends her, then she refuses to take her ID. None of it makes sense. There’s something very wrong about this picture.
“Can you at least take off your sunglasses?” Tracy blocks the sunlight from her eyes. “I like to see who I’m talking to.”
“Certainly.” The woman complies.
Tracy’s jaw drops.
“Rose?”
“That’s right.” Tracy’s former assistant fishes out a Glock from her purse.
Tracy gazes at the semiautomatic pistol.
“What do you want?”
“Come with me, both of you.” Rose motions with her head. “The boss wants you ask you a few questions.”
“And if we don’t?”
Rose fires a round, shattering the back passenger side window.
“I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”
As the duo file out of the damaged car, they march toward the minivan, just as confused as before. Blindfolded, gagged, and cuffed by a pair of Rose’s goons, they feel the car jolt as they are transported through the city. Destination unknown.