Elite 2: The Wrong Side of Revolution (16 page)

Daniel’s eyes widened. Richfield turned his head to look Daniel in the eye with look of regret. It took Daniel everything he had to remain silently still so as not to tip Demérs off to his whereabouts.

“I don’t think so,” Demérs replied. He then moved out of frame and turned the camera in a different direction. Now the screen showed a beautiful young woman tied up to a barstool. They were in Demérs’ penthouse apartment.

“Jordan,” Daniel whispered low enough that the microphone would not pick up his voice.

“You have two hours to tell me where he is before I make her my next test subject,” Demérs commanded, turning the camera back onto him.

“You’ve, known me a long time Gordon, why would you think that threat would have any consequence to me?” Richfield inquired.

“Because if you let her die he will never forgive you for it,” Demérs responded. “Two hours.”

And with that, Demérs ended the video stream.

“Well he’s right about that,” Daniel said to Richfield.

“I know,” Richfield replied.

“What did he mean by test subject?” Daniel asked.

“I would guess that he’s trying to make more of you,” Richfield answered.

Daniel turned and started back toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Richfield called after him.

“I’m going to end this,” Daniel told him.

“No! I’ll send someone else.”

“Can’t trust that,” Daniel responded, starting down the stairs. “You wanted me to kill him? Well here’s my best chance.”

“You are walking into an admitted trap here, on his home turf!” Richfield pleaded. “You can’t win!”

“So be it,” Daniel responded in a firm, confident tone.

“He will
kill
you.”

Daniel stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to Richfield, a furious scowl on his face.

“I won’t let her die for my poor choices!” He shouted at his boss, loud enough that everyone in the complex turned to stare.

Richfield turned his gaze toward all the agents staring at them, but Daniel held his angry stare on Richfield.

“Fine,” Richfield conceded. “If you die I’ll just send someone else to kill him.”

“Fine,” Daniel agreed. He turned and headed back down to his room to get dressed.

Daniel rode the train from the complex into downtown, the same way he had after his first interview at Elite back in June. It was mind boggling to think of how much had changed since then.

He called his mother on the train, disguising the conversation as a routine check-in, but really using it to tell her that he loved her one more time in case the worse were to happen to him.

At this point he was not afraid to die—not if it were in exchange for Jordan’s life. He couldn’t help but feel as though it were his fault that they were in this predicament, but in reality he supposed that both—or perhaps neither of them were actually to blame—he wasn’t sure which.

Neither Daniel nor Jordan had any idea what they were getting into when she hitched her wagon to Demérs, and Daniel hitched his to Richfield. There was no way they could have known that they would end up caught in a war between an ex-CIA agent and a bunch of lunatic, self-entitled rich people.

The atmosphere in the train was a solemn one, as if everyone inside knew what was about to happen to Daniel. He hypothesized that a mass transit vehicle was in fact a blank canvas, and that the individual rider determined the mood within. In reality, the only real change in ambience was determined by the current state of the rider. Externally, everything remained blank. Therefore two people on the train could interpret their car as exuding two completely different emotions. The individual who had just spent the night with their new lover for the first time could interpret the atmosphere of the car as a joyful one, while the man riding to his near-certain death would interpret it as a solemn one.

The theory was enough to take Daniel’s mind off of the disaster that was soon to follow until he arrived at his stop.

As he departed the train at the North Loop stop downtown, he began his walk toward Demérs’ building. He was not dressed warm enough, wearing only jeans, a plain grey T-shirt and a brown leather coat. He hadn’t much considered the weather while he was rushing to get dressed back at the complex.

The city was as lively as ever as he pushed his way through the bitter winds along the sidewalk. He took a deep breath and looked up, soaking in the view of the magnificent skyline. Much like with his mother, he wished to tell the city he held so dear how much he loved her before quite possibly leaving her forever. This walk was his phone call.

He arrived in front of Demérs’ building much sooner than he would have liked to, an hour ahead of the deadline he had set for Richfield.

Daniel carried no weapons. There would have been no point. As Richfield had pointed out to him he was walking into Demérs’ home turf, and there would be no way to sneak in without him knowing. Especially for Daniel, who was in no way himself a James Bond. His best and only option was to surrender, and then once Jordan was safe look for his best chance to escape.

He had come to terms with the fact that an opportunity for escape would be rather unlikely, but at least then Jordan would be safe. He imagined there would be a lot of unpleasant poking and prodding in his future before Demérs finally decided to kill him.

He took one last glance at the buildings around him before making his way up the stairs and into the building. Inside the lobby everything seemed normal. A few residents were enjoying their coffee in front of the waterfall, and the desk clerk was entranced by the computer screen in front of her. Daniel was able to walk straight to the elevators without anyone noticing him.

Why is it so easy to get into this building?
He wondered.

He arrived at the elevator that went up to the penthouse and stepped inside. He pushed the call button next to the button for the top floor.

Within seconds, the elevator door was sliding back open, and two angry looking men in black suits stepped in.

“Why always suits?” Daniel asked them just before the bigger one shoved him against the back wall.

“Shut up,” the smaller one said, sounding a bit irritable. “Turn around.”

As the doors slid shut the two men grabbed Daniel by the shoulders and spun him around, slamming his face up against the back wall. They each patted him down, then took his hands and bound them with zip-ties. They then spun him back around and each grabbed onto one of Daniel’s elbows. The bigger one then pressed the button for the top floor and the car started upwards.

Daniel tightened the tension on the zip-ties that bound his wrists just slightly, knowing that he would be able to break them but wondering how much skin he would lose in the process.

“Just two of you?” he asked the two men who gripped his arms tightly. If he was going to go down, he wanted to go down as a smartass like those guys in the movies. No fear.

“Have they not told you what I’m capable of?” He asked them, glancing from one to the other.

Both men appeared to be of Pacific Island descent, and both carried very wide frames. One was Daniel’s height and the other a few inches taller. Both were bald and had tribal tattoos on their necks. Daniel wondered if they were brothers.

They stood silently, not willing to indulge Daniel in his end-of-the-line antics. This led Daniel to begin whistling as they waited for the elevator car to reach the top. He noticed the smaller one roll his eyes, which gave him a small amount of satisfaction.

When they reached the top floor there were two more men in suits waiting for them when the doors slid open. Both of these men were also bald but were white and had leaner frames, though still very intimidating.

“Give you any problems?” One of the men in the hall asked in a deep, grumbly voice as he grabbed Daniel by the back of the neck and threw him forward, out into the hallway.

“No,” the shorter Islander answered. “No weapons either.”

“Didn’t they tell you?” Daniel turned towards the three men, “I don’t need weapons.”

“Shut up!” The white one yelled, again grabbing the back of Daniel’s neck and throwing him forward. Somehow Daniel managed to maintain his balance as he stumbled toward the door of the apartment.

The other white muscle stood by the door and waited to open it until the first white guy gave him the nod.

As the five of them walked into the apartment, there were two more men inside—these ones had hair—guarding Jordan. One was blonde and the other brunette. The blonde had his gun pointed at Jordan’s head. She was gagged and tied to the chair by with a thin, nylon rope.

“Six against one,” Daniel remarked once they were inside, “double my top score.”

He took a look around the apartment. Demérs and Salvador were nowhere to be found.

“Where’s the boss?” Daniel asked aloud.

The brunette replied sarcastically in a nasty English accent. “Oh, were you hoping to meet wif Gordon Demérs? I’m sorry, you’ll need an appointment.”

The man then grunted as he kicked Daniel in the shin. Daniel had already prepared himself by altering his pain receptors in the elevator, but he played along by dropping to one knee.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked the brunette Brit.

“For finking you could outwit me,” the man replied. “I saw it on your ugly face.”

“I’m not ugly,” Daniel said in a sad little kid voice.

“Get her up,” the Brit ordered the blonde one. “We’re gettin’ out of here.”

“Let her go!” Daniel blurted, suddenly serious. “I’m Daniel Hart, I’m the one you want. Let her go.”

“I’m sorry laddy,” the Englishmen said to him, getting up in his face, “The boss’s orders were to bring you bo’f into ‘im. Was that not what you was hopin’ for?”

Daniel no longer felt like joking around. His simple plan had now gone to shit. His Spidey moment was up.

The six unfriendly men ushered both Daniel and Jordan down to the lobby and out onto the street. They had also bound Jordan’s wrists with zip-ties and removed her gag. As they strode through the lobby the large men walked close enough to their hostages so that no one noticed their hands tied behind their backs.

When they stepped through the doors and out onto the street there were two black, mid-sized sedans waiting for them. They appeared to be newer models.

“What, no SUV?” Daniel said to the bald white man standing to his left. “Looks like old Gordie’s gone cheap on us.”

As he was finishing his sentence the man turned and plowed a right cross into Daniel’s jaw, knocking him to the pavement.

“Seriously?! Right on the street?!” Daniel shouted from his knees, spitting out blood.

“I’ve had enough of your mouth!” The man who had punched him walked up behind him and forced a piece of cloth between Daniel’s teeth, then tied it tightly around the back of his head. He then picked Daniel up by his collar before shoving him into the back seat of the lead car.

The doorman stared in horror at the scene. The intimidating bald man in the black suit stared him down, silently telling the doorman to mind his own business. The man then got into the driver’s seat of the sedan. The brothers with the neck tattoos got in the back seat on either side of Daniel, and the blonde one took his place in the front passenger seat.

The brunette and the other baldy got in the trail car with Jordan.

As the cars pulled off Daniel began pumping himself up. It was a massive mistake putting him in such a small vehicle, which left him in close quarters with his attackers. This would undoubtedly be his best opportunity for escape. The trick was going to be finding a way to safely rescue Jordan as well.

The blonde in the front seat sat with his gun trained on Daniel as they drove along, making their way toward the expressway. The two big men who were currently squishing Daniel in the middle seat seemed at ease, as if completely un-phased by the situation.

As they got on the expressway Daniel turned to see how far behind them the trail car was.

“Eyes front!” The blonde in the front seat ordered him.

Daniel did as he was told and turned around, preparing to make his move.

He was incredibly nervous. He would only get one shot at this and everything needed to happen perfectly. The jewelry store was awesome, but this was about to be some next-level shit.

Daniel began pulling apart on the zip-ties that held his wrists together. He felt the plastic start to cut into his wrists, but he kept himself from feeling the pain. Eventually, he felt them snap free.

Unfortunately he also heard them snap, and he wasn’t the only one.

The blonde turned his head around to stare Daniel in the eyes, recognizing the sound. Both men’s eyes began to widen, realizing that they needed to act first.

The blonde started to move but Daniel was quicker. He slid forward and kicked his right leg upward, pinning the blonde’s right hand—which was currently holding his gun—to the roof of the car. The man fired instinctively, shooting a hole through the roof.

The large man on his right saw what was happening and quickly leaned in to try and subdue Daniel. With his hands now free Daniel punched as hard as he could with his right arm, throwing the man’s head backward into the window.