26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter twenty-six
Noble watched the lights of Belgrade flashing past on his left and weighed his options.
These two weren’t cops, but they’d done a rather good impression.
They might have even worked law enforcement at one point and knew how cops operated.
The car was headed west, circling the city, rumbling along hardpacked roads.
Noble could try to throw open a door and roll out, but how far would he get?
He was in a foreign city and didn’t know the landscape.
These two had probably lived here all their lives.
They would hit the brakes as soon as Noble tried to escape, and they’d run him down in minutes.
Trying to bail out of the car would only waste time and energy.
And yet, he might not get a better chance. He had no idea where they were taking him or what they planned to do. The land to his right was looming dark pine and shadowy forest. If he could make it into the trees, maybe he could hide.
The sedan rumbled over a pothole. Noble swayed.
The seat creaked. His hand strayed toward the doorhandle.
If these two really knew their business, they’d picked a vehicle with child safety locks.
Manufacturers make them to prevent children from accidentally opening a door and falling out of a moving vehicle, but they’re a perfect example of the law of unintended consequences.
What car manufacturers intended for good, evil people used for kidnapping.
Noble tried to keep his movement subtle, inching a hand toward the door, going slow. A particularly rough patch of road gave him the cover he needed to grasp the handle. As he suspected, the door was locked and the handle didn’t budge.
He was trapped inside the car, unless he wanted to try kicking out a window. No way he could do that before the two goons in the front stopped him.
The driver took a left and now they were headed through an industrial zone with dilapidated old buildings on both sides. Wherever they were taking him, Noble knew they were getting close. Once the car stopped, his ability to mount any kind of defense would evaporate. He had to act.
Fortunately, the tuck and roll is not the only trick in a spy’s arsenal for escaping a moving vehicle. Unfortunately, the other option meant intentionally crashing the car. That’s always a dangerous option. It meant causing a wreck and hoping he survived uninjured.
Noble was about to make his play when Comb-over turned in the passenger seat to glare. His eyes were cold and dark. He looked Noble over and in a heavy European accent said, “I see the wheels turning inside your head.”
Sideburns, in the driver’s seat, glanced once in the rearview.
Comb-over produced a tarnished nickel plated .45 caliber pistol, which he pointed over the seats at Noble’s chest. “Don’t.”
The gun was a relic. It had been used and abused. Even in the low light of the car, Noble could see slide-wear as well as marks on the frame where the pistol had been repeatedly broken down for cleaning.
It wasn’t a law enforcement weapon. Police departments the world over issued Glocks or Sigs. And the weapons remain more or less in factory new condition, getting a twice-yearly cleaning from indifferent cops who expect the guns to work when needed.
“So where are we headed?” Noble asked.
“Police station,” Sideburns answered as he drove.
“If you’re cops, I’m an Olympic ice skater.”
Comb-over grinned. “You’ll find out where we are going soon enough.”
“Any chance you want to tell me who you’re working for?”
Comb-over shook his head.
Noble clicked his tongue, as if that were unfortunate, but expected. “What about Bill and Milena,” he asked. “They dead?”
“You are asking many questions,” Comb-over said. “Haven’t you heard the expression; curiosity is killing the cat?”
“Occupational hazard.”
Comb-over said something to Sideburns in Serbian—or was it Albanian? It would take a local to know the difference. Sideburns laughed.
Noble chuckled as if he understood.
The sedan slowed as Sideburns navigated a steep downgrade.
Noble caught a glimpse of their destination through the front windshield.
The road ran down to a sprawling junkyard full of smashed cars and mountains of bald tires.
Several flaming barrels provided a hellish light.
Flames licked up from the metal rims, causing shadows to dance and cavort among the junked cars.
A pair of rusty iron gates at the front had been propped open.
The yard was a twisting maze of junked heaps piled one on top of the next into towering high rises. Sideburns snaked through the narrow lanes to a compactor at the back of the complex where several men stood waiting.
Noble said, “Last stop?”
“For you,” Comb-over said.