Chapter 5: The Chase

Massimo’s POV

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I burst through the door.

And then I find myself in a poorly lit alley. The cold night rushes in, hitting me sharply like a slap. The alley stretches in front of me, deserted and for a moment I see nothing.

Then my phone is already in my hand.

“Don?”

“Lock down every road leaving Marbella.”

“Boss? Every exit?”

“Yes. Every exit.”

“Ok Don, but what are we going to be looking…?”

I end the call because something on the left catches my attention.

At the far end of the alley on the left, two men are talking to a female, a blonde. They stand illuminated by the headlights of a jeep. The blonde turns towards the front entrance of the bar while the men proceed toward the jeep, the light falls on their forms and I finally get a better look at them. One of the men climbs into the driver's seat. The other goes to the rear seat.

Wait a minute.

I know these men. I know that lady.

Cold fury spreads through my body.

That was the blonde, the one who was always with her and these are two idiots from inside the bar a moment ago.

But there's another, a third man already sitting in the back seat of the car . He sits close to a female, the way her head lolls loosely on his shoulder, it looks as if she is unconscious or dead.

Elena.

My pulse stumbles as I make out her form.

Even from the distance and dim light I can see her head and hair now in messy curls angled awkwardly towards the male.

The two lines coursing from the back door where I'm standing to the car, tell me she was dragged to the car, maybe unconscious, or worse, that is all I need to go deeper into a frenzy.

I race towards the jeep almost at the same time as I see it jerk to move.

My vision tunnels and everything else blurs.

All I can see are the taillights on that damn car. My body whimpers as I demand for more.

For it to give me more energy to close the distance. More speed than is possible for a human, especially one with my diagnosis.

Pain courses through the centre of my ribs, reminding me of my unreasonable demand. I continue anyway. I need to catch up with the car like I need to breathe.

A moving car. My subconscious mocks.

My lungs are about to give up and in my head I sound like an idiot but I don't care.

I have never been religious all my life. I'm Catholic and I go to church with my family. My mother prays, my sister prays, every other person in my family says a prayer every now and then.

But unlike my family, I always preferred guns. I don't believe there's someone up there coming to save me. I have always been the one doing the saving.

Or the destroying.

But it's clear I need help now.

So I hear myself whispering a few words as I continue my chase, the ones people say when they pray.

I'm almost reaching the jeep. I can almost touch these bastards.

Then it doesn't work.

Because the car speeds up, and suddenly all that's within my reach is its exhaust fumes.

Damn it

I'm too late.

No, I'm never too late. Especially now when I can't afford to.

I stand for half a second, heaving, chest pounding.

Then in an instant, I remember I came to this place in my damn car, yet panic had me chasing a jeep on my bare feet.

I turn around and sprint back to my truck. I turn on my ignition, then look up and suddenly notice the taillights have disappeared.

Seconds later I'm almost at the end of the alley.

I speed down the ensuing lane and as I get to the end a T-junction opens up in front of me, offering me a view of the road that splits into two.

I slam on the brakes and look down both ways. No sign of the fucking jeep.

My stomach falls.

Two choices.

Left or right, which could it be? The right lane flowed into the highway, like a river of headlights stretching into the darkness. Endless exits. Endless roads. Endless places to disappear.

The left was worse.

It led to industrial roads, which branched off to service roads. It also led to the coast. And abandoned factories, old warehouses, construction sites.

Enough isolated corners they could turn and get lost in and I’ll never find them.

I gripped the steering wheel so hard my fingers hurt.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My heart is  pounding so hard my ears vibrate. They could have taken either turn. Which of them could it be for God sake?

Every time I waste here they would be inching forward into any part of Marbella. Each second spent pondering, they could reach another junction, take another turn, but I still need to get this right. I can't afford to make a mistake now.

One wrong move and Elena would be...

I bring myself to the version of stillness I can afford given the circumstances and do a quick sweep of my options again.

Taking the right and that meant the highway. And its numerous tributaries, all open roads.

Taking the left and its options were almost endless roads arching onto roads that led to the coast and also roads that led to several parts of this city including the cliffs and all the isolation, a perfect haven for kidnappers.

Which of them could it fucking be?

I am pondering, still deciding, when God, or luck, or whatever indifferent force watches over villains and humans, drops two people right in my eyeline.

Young. Club-dressed, they are probably a couple, hiding under the cover of night.

Standing close enough to the junction that they would have seen the jeep.

“Hey,” I barked. “What turn did the jeep take?”

At the  speed those idiots were driving, there is a high chance that at least one of these two would have noticed the turn the jeep took.

But instead of answering, they look at me deadpan and continue talking to each other. This couple must have a death wish if they choose today of all days to mess around.

I open the glove compartment, draw out my gun and aim it directly in front of the guy's head.

They both go all stiff and trembling.

“The jeep?” I bark. “What turn did it take?”

Still trembling, his hand comes up and then he shakily points left.

“You sure?” I ask.

They both nod, still trembling.

I was already on the road before he dropped his still-pointed fingers, swinging hard into the left lane, the traffic light at the far end cycling from green to amber.

I must have zoomed through a red but whatever. My heart is pounding and there's only one thing on it.

Let Elena be safe.

How could this happen right under my nose? Damn it.

What if that man was  just scared and pointed me in the wrong direction?

There are several routes on the right that could lead to clandestine locations all over this damn city.

An almost violent exhale leaves my chest when I spot a jeep several metres ahead.

For a second my entire body surges with hope.

The shape is right.

The size is right.

The colour...

I find myself leaning forward over the steering wheel to  make out the colour.

Come on.

Come on.

I edge forward, but still the distance between us shrinks agonisingly slowly.

Please let it be those bastards.

I press on, inching in at a speed that I’m sure isn't acceptable.

Then I come within a distance close enough to attain certainty.

I see the dent on the bumper and the cracked taillight that I suddenly realise I noticed on the car when I ran close earlier.

I didn't even realise I had been holding my breath because the exhale is almost too invigorating. I feel it behind my eyes.

It's the jeep.

I dial down my speed gradually as I close in on an acceptable distance.

My pulse begins to steady.

Then I make a quick change of plan.

Follow these assholes.

I'm going to get every single soul involved in this and they're going to wish for death.

I lock onto them in no time and stay three cars behind.

They are fast but I maintain my distance.

The road stretches ahead beneath a moonlit sky.

We leave Marbella behind and drive under the cover of the dark for what feels like an eternity, as concrete gives way to open land, outskirts, then olive groves and finally into shrublands with abandoned factories.

I turn off my lights.

I know this place.

I knew exactly where we were going the moment their car turned onto these rutted dirt roads.

Some cold spreads up my chest.

Gavriil’s territory.

The Russian.

Of all the places in Marbella.

Of all the monsters in Spain, it had to be him?

The arching knots in my belly twist even further as my brain catches a new line of thought.

Was this really the right way to handle this?

Why didn't I just take the men on one of those open roads?

Is Elena still alive? 

They couldn't have killed her.

No, that will be counterproductive especially since they drove her all the way to this place.

They pull off the road and turn onto stony tracks, then drive through the gate to the big old warehouse.

I stop my truck a few metres back with my hands tight on the steering wheel.

My anger turns colder and darker, turning my vision razor-sharp as I scan the perimeter.

Gavriil was king of all kinds of bad trades.

Arms, sex trafficking, drugs and shady deals.

He didn't deal with children or that would have put him on my list to be eliminated, but now I have begun to regret why I didn't start a crusade against sex trafficking too.

It never crossed my mind that it would one day become my problem until now.

Until Elena.

This is Gavriil's empire.

And he had a bloody army behind those walls.

Guards on rotation at every exit, at every camera.

Pretty girls disappear in his warehouses and never come back the same.

If they come back at all.

Drugged, raped, broken before being shipped off to God knows where.

Elena has no business being dragged into this godforsaken slice of hell.

I will myself to a standstill and flip out my phone. I need to bring in my own army, but the time it will take them to reach this place.

The time I don't have.

Once a girl enters a place like this, she becomes an inventory, a number, a photograph, a price tag attached to a body.

She could be sold almost immediately, transported at dawn.

And after that she is lost forever.