Train Spotting Novels & Stories

After that, he and the rest of the group got in their own cars and drove off toward the direction of the town. The tire tracks were made visible since the ground around the explosion site was made up of mud, but it would be impossible to see them after they got on the asphalt road. Thus, they had no choice but to stop the car and contact the traffic bureau to help them locate any vehicle that might have looked suspicious through the use of traffic surveillance footage. Since not many cars would drive to the explosion site in the middle of the night, they managed to quickly locate a suspicious-looking minivan driving out from the explosion site and toward a small bungalow situated in a narrow

All of the elements of the trap had been laid out with the type of patience that hardens a man's pride into steel. When the first ping hit Toni’s feed, everyone leaned in. The drone saw the sedan, engine humming like a heartbeat, tires whispering over wet asphalt. Ana’s fingers flew, pulling the comms thread, triangulating a route. Elvis traced a money trail like a hound catching scent. F

There was silence because that was the line they were holding onto. Adrian spoke again, “I’m filtering unusual movement.” Marcus asked, “What counts as unusual?” Adrian replied, “Vehicles leaving fast, sudden stops, route changes.” Yvonne nodded. “Also look for blind spots.” Adrian paused. “Blind spots?” Yvonne continued, “Areas with weak or no camera coverage.” Marcus understood. “They would use that.” Adrian nodded. “Checking.” The system processed quickly. Maps were updated, routes were highlighted. Then Adrian stopped.

“Tyson!” I sprint toward the parking lot behind the motel. Three black SUVs sit hidden beneath a collapsing metal shelter. Fresh tire tracks surround them. Not old. Recent. Hope explodes inside me. I rush forward. Maybe they’re still.. No. The doors hang open. Empty. I inhale deeply. Nothing. No scent. None. I move to the second vehicle. Nothing. The third. Still nothing. It’s impossible. Every vehicle carries scent. Drivers. Passengers, oil, sweat, fear, something.

I had almost reached the side corridor that led to the private garage when I heard footsteps. It was heavy and familiar. One of the night guards. I pressed myself into the deep shadow of a tall marble pillar, barely breathing. The guard walked past slowly, flashlight sweeping across the floor just inches from my boots. My pulse roared in my ears. If he turned even slightly— He didn’t. He kept walking, muttering something into his radio, and disappeared around the corner. I waited three more heartbeats, then bolted. By the time I reached the garage, my hands were slightly shaky. I slipped into my black car, started the engine as quietly as possible, and drove out through the service gate with

" I looked out the window, just getting a glimpse of the road ahead. "Unit Three, standby for spike strips," said another officer over the radio. My mind raced as I considered the plan forming in front of us. The spike strips would pierce the SUV's tires, slowing the car down. However, the time has to be ideal. We risk losing them if we miss.

"It didn't just appear from the blind spot. It was idling on the shoulder of the M4 for forty-two minutes before Ciara’s sedan passed the bridge." "Waiting," I muttered, my jaw tightening until a sharp ache flared in my temple. "Worse," Louis said, tapping the screen to bring up an audio-spectrum graph. "The trailing vehicle—the one that captured the footage—was broadcasting a high-frequency directional signal. It was targeting the transponder in your vehicle's steering column. We isolated the audio track from the cabin mic inside your SUV before the impact." Louis hit play.

“Boss.” “How many trackers are currently active?” “Twenty-three.” “I want every one of them working.” A brief pause. “Target?” “A grayish black pickup truck. No plates.” “Location?” “I’ll send the crash coordinates.” “We’ll start pulling traffic feeds.” “Don’t just pull them.” My voice had gone frighteningly calm. “Find every camera within ten miles. Public. Private. Dashcams. Parking garages. Storefronts. If someone deleted footage, tell me who had access.”

“I’ll call you back, alright?” “Please do.” She ended the call just as Scorpion stiffened. “There,” he muttered. “Movement.” Before Sarah could ask another question, Scorpion pressed harder on the accelerator. The engine growled, the car surging forward as headlights sliced through the darkness. Too late. Figures burst from the woods almost simultaneously, shadows separating themselves from trees with terrifying speed. Another SUV roared out from behind the brush, headlights flaring aggressively as it merged onto the road behind them. “Contact!” Spider shouted.