(6) An Unauthorized Escape

Ulrich has endured the interrogation by Detective Sparks, but his team has not forgotten him...

Ulrich’s discomfort was becoming unbearable. His wrists were sore where the cold metal cuffs weighed heavily on his skin, and he felt like the flesh of his butt had given way to the bones within. The temperature in the interrogation room had continued to rise since his refusal to co-operate with the insistent Detective Sparks, and his thighs were chaffing badly. He’d stood for a while and wandered around the room, trying to air them out, but when we went back to the chair he realised his mistake. As little comfort as he’d had previously had been tolerable, but now it was not. He was dying for a glass of water.

 

            “How about some water in here?” he shouted at the solid glass wall. He knew that just on the other side there were people watching him. Probably Detective Sparks. She couldn’t deny him water. “Sparks? Water!”

 

            The door opened again and Detective Sparks came in, carrying with her a quick blast of refreshingly cool air. She was wearing a jacket for god’s sake! In her hand was a cup of water, which Ulrich stared at greedily, but as Caroline set it down on the table steam could be seen rising from it. Ulrich’s heart sank further.

 

            “You’re a cold b***h, Sparks,” breathed. His shirt was soaked with his own sweat and stuck to the chair.

 

            “And you’re a hot mess,” she said. “Tell me where I can find Ulrich. I have officers going through your building asking about him. Someone will sell him out sooner or later. But in the mean time, you stay in this room. It’s a bit hot, isn’t it? I’ll go ask about the air con. Maybe it’s broken.”

 

            The detective turned her back to leave, and almost collided with the door as it swung open behind her. Two people, a man and a woman dressed in black suits, strode purposefully into the room. The man went straight for Ulrich, unlocking his handcuffs and standing him up while the woman spoke to Detective Sparks.

 

            “Detective Sparks, Eric Stevens is coming with us,” she said. “The FBI thanks you for your co-operation in this on-going investigation, and for the apprehension of this criminal.”

 

            “What the f**k is going on?” Sparks answered her. “Who the hell are you?”

 

            Ulrich stood unsteadily, hobbling on a cramped leg. He looked at the face of the female FBI agent, and was shocked to see that it was Pia Reimann. He marvelled that he hadn’t recognised her instantly.

 

            “Hey, lets go,” Harley whispered in his ear. Ulrich hadn’t seen his face yet, but that voice… it was unmistakeable. It was a rescue.

 

            “As I said, we are FBI,” Pia condescended. “I am agent Talloway, and this agent Warren. We’re taking your prisoner.”

 

            The two FBI lookalikes made for the door, pushing Ulrich between them, but Detective Sparks barred the way.

 

            “No you’re not,” she objected. “I have him for assault. He faked his own death for crying out loud!”

 

            “And we have him for tax evasion,” Pia retaliated. “He’s been on the run for six years! Every time we get close he fakes his own death. This must be, what, how many, Warren?”

 

            “The forth, I think,” Harley said. “Pretty sure.”

 

            “Ok,” Pia continued. “So stand down, Detective Sparks. We’ll take it from here.”

 

            Ulrich watched the scene, for it was all an act, unfold with a smirk on his face. He became aware of the smirk, and changed it into a grimace. He looked at Detective Sparks and there was fire in her eyes. She looked as if she could strike Pia down with her gaze alone, but the sleeper agent stared right on back. Reluctantly, Detective Sparks stepped to the side of the door, and let them go. Pia exited first, and Ulrich second followed by Harley. The relief of the air outside the interrogation room washed over Ulrich, and almost overshadowed his relief at being released. Almost. He had to stop himself from dancing out the door.

 

            “Nice job,” Ulrich said out the side of his mouth as they descended the steps in front of the police station.

 

            “Thanks,” Pia said. She shot him a quick mischievous glance and smiled a warm, cosy smile.

 

            Their getaway car was exactly what Ulrich had been expecting. In his mind he’d seen a jet black government car, with tinted windows and a shiny polish, and there in the car park was exactly that. They’d pulled out all the stops to get him free, it seemed. Still, though, it was a nice car. Someone would probably be missing it. Risky move.

 

            “Get in,” Pia said, opening the back door. Harley took Ulrich by the head and forced him in, playing the part to perfection. They were set to go.

            In silence they pulled out of the car park, and took a few quick disorientating turns. Pia seemed to know where she was going. They had a route planned. That was quick, Ulrich thought. I’d only been in there a couple of hours.

 

            Harley took his jacket off and unclipped a holster from under his arms. He tossed it onto the back seat where Ulrich could reach it. It landed on a small overnight bag.

 

            “There’re clothes in that bag, Ulrich,” Harley said. “Get changed, quick. And strap up!”

 

            Ulrich quickly shed his oversized shirt and pants, and threw the baseball cap out the window. The tinted windows hid his near-naked body from those outside, and he was able to shamelessly redress himself in a suit that matched the other two’s. He strapped the pistol, which he recognised as the gun that failed to kill Eric Stevens, across his back sop that it dangled beneath his arm pit. Now free and equipped, he was able to take a closer look at their situation.

 

            “Where’d you get this car?” was his first question.

 

            “It was parked in an alley beside a burger shop,” Harley answered, and said no more.

 

            “It’s nice.”

 

            The silence in the car began to grow, and Ulrich became aware that something was wrong. As quietly as possible he checked the chambers on his pistols again, and eyed the backs of Pia and Harley’s heads suspiciously. He sat forward in his seat and looked more closely at them. They both appeared very stern.

 

            “What does Huttner think about this?” Ulrich asked cautiously.

 

            “He doesn’t know,” Harley said shortly.

 

            “What do you mean he doesn’t know?” Ulrich pressed. “Doesn’t know what? That you rescued me? Or that I was in there at all?”

 

            “Trust me, its best this way,” Harley said. “He doesn’t know a thing. He doesn’t need to, now that you’re safe.”

 

            “Well, how did you know?”

 

            “I’m counter intelligence, Ulrich,” Harley said. “It’s my job to know this stuff. I kept an ear out for all of our names, including our fake ones, and watched the investigations. Turns out that blood bag wasn’t so genius.”

 

            Ulrich sat back and thought. Huttner could now never know. If one of the sleeper cell got caught, they were either denied or killed, depending on the level of threat to the others. Rescues were too risky. They all knew that. But Pia and Harley had still come for him… They’d still broken protocol… for him…

 

            Time to move on to other things.

 

            “So, where are we headed now?”

 

            “I’ve found us a little spot,” Harley said. “Where we can stage the op. All your stuff has been moved there. You did some good recon, I might add.”

 

            “We might have some trouble,” Pia said worryingly. Her eyes were not on the road, but the rear view mirror. “That car’s sticking with us.”

 

            Ulrich looked out the back. A black four wheel drive loomed ominously behind their car, not close enough to be obvious but since there weren’t any other cars around their attempt at subtlety proved to be in vain.

 

            “Shake them,” Harley ordered.

 

            Pia spun the wheel. Ulrich hadn’t been expecting it and since he wasn’t wearing his seat belt he fell heavily against the door, hitting his head. He swore and pulled himself upright again, but the inside of the car had changed. Physically it was the same, except that everything now changed from red to blue and back again. And a siren cried out, echoing off the walls of the narrow city roads and amplifying against the car, and against Ulrich’s ears. He looked out the window again and saw that that same black four wheel drive was keeping pace with Pia’s increasingly wild manoeuvrings. He heard the threatening click of a weapon being loaded, and turned to see that Harley had produced from some hidden crevice a compact automatic rifle. Harley saw Ulrich staring, but said nothing. He just slung the sling over his shoulder and propped himself against the dashboard, facing backwards.

 

            “Are you mad?” Ulrich screamed at Harley as he shouldered his weapon.

 

            “Yes,” was his reply, and as soon as the sound of his voice reached Ulrich’s ears so too did the thunder of gunfire. The back window of their stolen vehicle exploded in an instant, half the fragments rattling away on the road behind them and the other half raining down on Ulrich as he sheltered his face against the cushion.

 

            Suddenly Pia let out a cry and the car swerved violently, nearly going into a spin.

 

            “Watch were you fire that thing, arsehole,” Pia shouted, brushing a handful of superheated shell casings off her legs.

 

            Harley said nothing, just looked out the back window. The four wheel drive slowed down at the burst of gunfire, and an eerie silence came over the car. Only the hum of the engine, for Pia had ceased her erratic driving, could be heard. Harley lowered the rifle, and they pulled off the road into an open garage.

 

            “Come on, lets go on foot,” Pia said. “Lose the jackets and the guns. We’ll blend in.”

 

            Ulrich obliged without question, but Harley clicked his tongue. He reached into the back and grabbed the overnight bag, and stuffed the short barrelled automatic inside it. Then he threw it over his shoulder and followed Pia deeper into the building. Without encountering another soul they passed right through, and came out at an old aqueduct, directly below the highway overpass. There was a maintenance footbridge that ran beneath the road, and as the three of them stepped onto it the sound of a helicopter reach them. The only thing they could see above them was the grimy concrete of the highway bridge, so they continued.

 

            None of them spoke. They just walked. After the highway bridge they followed the workers access tunnel back up to ground level, where they entered a busy shopping centre. At the basement level they found a train station, bought a ticket each and road with the afternoon commuters until Pia made a move to get off. Forty five minutes had passed, and they hadn’t seen a single police officer, so Ulrich was starting to relax a little. How strange, he thought, that I’ve lived in this city for nine years and yet it feels like an alien place to me now; dangerous and hostile.