38

Chapter 38

A Darker Path

Part Thirty-Eight: Traffic Stop

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Kayleen Hoskins, Hostage

"Mom, I'm scared."

"Shut it, kid."

Kayleen looked around at Sean, sitting in the middle of the back seat with the man she'd mentally dubbed 'Kidnapper B' beside him. "It'll be okay," she said, desperately hoping she was telling the truth.

"Listen to your mom, kid," advised Kidnapper A, in the driver's seat. "We get to Brockton Bay and make the delivery, you're free and clear. We ain't gonna touch a hair on your fuckin' head."

Yeah, and what happens when the first cop gets suspicious? A gun to our heads, that's what. Kayleen wasn't stupid. She knew how this sort of thing played out in movies and TV shows.

But she knew the only chance she and Sean had of surviving was to do what they were told until she saw a chance for him to make a run for it. Right now, they had no chance at all; the kidnappers had zip-tied their hands in front of them after fastening their seatbelts, so they were literally attached to the car. But once they got out, their hands would be free and maybe there would be a chance then.

It was more than a little worrying that the kidnappers weren't bothering to cover their faces in any way. That sort of thing usually meant they weren't concerned about witnesses identifying them later. Which made it all the more imperative that she give Sean a chance to get away. He was a smart kid; he knew how to run, how to hide and how to find a cop. Her only worry was that he'd try to help her get away as well.

She would never forgive herself if she got away and he got killed.

"Shit!" Kidnapper A snapped, cutting into her reverie. "Cops! Coming up fast!"

"Just stay cool, man." Kidnapper B tried to sound smooth and confident, but Kayleen could hear the worry in his voice. "They're probably after someone else. We switched the plates, yeah?"

"Yeah, but that does jack and shit if they're just looking for a make and colour, dumbass."

In the next moment, the interior of the car was flooded with light. Kidnapper A swore and adjusted the rearview mirror so it wasn't throwing a concentrated beam of light into his eyes; Kayleen felt the car surge forward as he put his foot down.

In response, there was a chirp of siren from behind them, then a bullhorn-amplified voice bellowed, "DARK GREY FORD SEDAN, PULL OVER. NOW!"

"Keep driving!" There was strain in Kidnapper B's voice.

"Like I was going to do anything else!" Kidnapper A's knuckles were white on the wheel.

They were now hurtling down the road at speeds that put Kayleen's heart in her throat. Seatbelts or no seatbelts, if they crashed now, she and Sean were going to be seriously hurt or worse.

The light that filled the car cut off, but that was because the state trooper's car was now coming up alongside them. Blue and red bubblegum lights flashed and the siren blared at full strength, as much for intimidation value as for letting the public know it was there. And then a side-spot cut in, glaring in through the driver's side window, leaving Kayleen unable to see anything at all.

"Hold up your hands!" yelled Kidnapper A over the wail of the siren. "Let 'em see the cuffs! You too, junior!"

Squinting against the sun-bright spotlight, Kayleen did as she was told; hopefully, Sean was doing the same. At the same time, she felt the cold touch of metal as Kidnapper A put his pistol to her head. She desperately hoped that nothing would get in his way right then, because it was not a good time to have one hand off the wheel.

The state trooper must have seen the heavy zip-ties and the pistol, because the spotlight cut out and the car abruptly fell back. Kayleen tried to blink away the dancing blobs of colour that had invaded her vision, but it wasn't easy. The gun wasn't at her head anymore and they were still alive, so that was a good thing.

"Okay, so what now?" That was Kidnapper A, from the voice.

"We keep driving. That's what the boss said. They know we've got hostages, so they won't try anything cute."

"And what about Atropos? What if she shows up?"

"If Atropos shows up, we fucking pull over and surrender. Dipshit."

"Don't call me dipshit. Asshole."

"Shut up and drive. Is that cop still back there?"

Kayleen's vision was starting to return, and she saw Kidnapper A look up at the rearview mirror. "Yeah, he's still there. Hanging back about a hundred yards or so."

"Good. As soon as we hit the suburbs, we'll lose him."

"Uh …"

"What?"

Kidnapper A pointed ahead through the windshield. Kayleen blinked the last of the dazzle from her eyes and stared ahead as well. Kidnapper B swore luridly.

Far ahead, though clearly illuminated by a lone street-light, a dark figure awaited them, standing in the middle of the road. A black long-coat flared dramatically in the breeze. Kayleen couldn't see a gun, but that didn't matter. She knew who it was.

Atropos.

"Hands off guns," Kidnapper A said, applying the brakes and changing gears to slow down. "We don't threaten the lady, we don't threaten the kid, we don't even try to threaten the scary fuckin' cape, and we might live through this."

"I'm letting the boss know." Kidnapper B had his phone out and dialling as he spoke. "Once we've done that, we can surrender."

"Yeah, you do that."

On a Private Jet, Still Flying East

Bastard Son

His phone chimed, and he smiled as he picked it up. "Yes?"

"Uh, sir, we nearly got to Brockton Bay, but Atropos is here. Just letting you know we're going to surrender."

"Understood." He cut the call, then dropped the burner phone into the foil bag at his side. He'd have that crushed as soon as he landed.

Taking up the remote detonator, he flipped the switch to arm it. Each and every one of the car's booby traps was now live; if they so much as opened the doors or even removed their seatbelts, it would send a signal to the two pounds of Semtex packed under the seat-cushions (and armed with pressure sensors). The car would become a fireball, spreading destruction far and wide, and innocents would absolutely die.

And even if Atropos figured out the trap and devised a way to disarm the explosives so that they could get out alive? He had a direct detonation signal, ready to send. Pressing the red button on his remote would send a signal to the other four pounds of high explosive, packed in and around the frame of the vehicle, entirely separate from the other bombs and impossible to get to without disassembling half the car. And even that wasn't all; if all else failed, there was now a timer ticking down. One way or another, Atropos was done.

The tiny screen built into the remote fuzzed then cleared, showing the view from the tiny fisheye lens built into the frame of the rear-view mirror. Settling back with his thumb resting lightly on the detonation button, he prepared to watch the show.

Kayleen Hoskins

The car slowed to a halt, about ten yards away from Atropos. She stepped forward, raising a bullhorn. In her other hand was a pistol, pointed at the vehicle. "EVERYONE STAY IN THE CAR," she warned them. "DO NOT UNFASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS. DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOORS. KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM."

"But we want to surrender!" shouted Kidnapper A, keeping his hands clearly in sight. "Just hand us over to the cops!"

"Not that easy, I'm afraid." Atropos let the bullhorn fall to hang by its sling from her shoulder as she walked up alongside the car. "Your boss left you a very final severance package. If you open your door or undo your seatbelt, you will die. If you try to do it, I will shoot you in the head." She broke off, turning to address the approaching state trooper with the bullhorn. "BACK OFF. THE CAR IS RIGGED TO BLOW. I'VE GOT THIS."

"Rigged to blow?" blurted Kayleen as the trooper backed off again. "You mean explosives?"

"That's the idea. But like I said, I've got this." Leaning down, Atropos surveyed the interior of the car, then shook her head slowly. "I have to say, he was damn thorough about it. There's enough explosives in this car to turn it into confetti."

"What the fuck?" demanded Kidnapper B. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he knew I'd intercept you," Atropos said patiently. "And the last four times people have just tried to bull-rush past me, I've killed them. But I've spared innocents. So, he's setting it up so I have to let you go or risk this lady and her son being killed. Or so he thinks."

"We weren't going to hurt them," Kidnapper A interjected nervously. "Just so you know that, right?"

Atropos nodded. "Oh, I know. That's why I'm not going to kill you, just hand you over to the cops." She turned to Kayleen. "Your girls are safe. Your husband showed up and took them and the car home. Now, if you do exactly as I say, you'll see them again in just a few hours."

A knot of tension eased in Kayleen's chest. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"Reach across and roll your window all the way down. Can you do that for me?"

"I think so." Kayleen did as she was told, and carefully rolled the window down. As she did so, she became aware of flashing lights approaching from ahead. "Uh, what's that?"

Atropos didn't even bother looking around. "That would be the PRT, right on time. They'll keep idiots from interfering."

"But … you're a villain!" protested Kidnapper B. "Won't they try to arrest you?"

"Nah. I've trained 'em well." Atropos walked around the front of the car and produced a large and very sharp-looking pair of shears. Kayleen wasn't sure, but she thought she recognised them from the online footage that had been released about Atropos. "Wrists, please."

Obediently, Kayleen held up her bound wrists. The shears slid in between the plastic and her skin, the sharp metal cold on her skin, and snipped once; the zip-tie fell away.

"Thank you." Kayleen massaged her wrists for a moment. "What do I do now?"

Taylor

"One sec." I turned as one of the PRT troopers approached me. The rest were keeping their distance, setting up a perimeter. "Reave. How many favours did you have to burn to get lead on this case?"

He wasn't even surprised that I'd identified him by his PHO handle. "Not as many as you'd think. What've we got?"

I gestured at the car. "It's like I told you in the text. Bastard Son is trying to smuggle drugs into the city, so he got two of his expendable mooks here to grab hostages. But he's also had the car rigged to blow nine ways from Sunday as a massive fuck-you to yours truly. Six pounds of Semtex. With booby-traps, a remote detonator, and a timer on top of that, which is counting down right now."

"Shit." He didn't sound happy. "Is there enough time for the bomb squad to get here?"

"Not nearly. Besides, some of the explosives are built into the chassis. I'm just going to disarm enough of it to get them out, then let it blow in place." It was going to make a hole in the highway, I knew, but it wasn't my highway.

"Wait," he protested. "You said remote detonation. What if he sets it off while you're disarming it?"

I grinned under the mask. "Yeah, he's been trying to do that for the last minute or so."

Bastard Son

1 Minute Ago

The view at the outer edge of the fisheye lens was distorted, but it was possible to see that the woman had rolled down her window and was holding up her wrists. A moment later, a metal blade came into view—no, not a blade! A pair of shears! He sat up straight as the gleaming metal snipped through the heavy plastic tie. Atropos is right there! At the car!

All his intricate planning had come to this moment. Why bother destroying her reputation when he could kill her? Even as the triumphant thought crossed his mind, he jabbed his thumb down on the red button and kept it there.

Nothing happened immediately, but he knew that signal lag was a thing. The killswitch signal had to get from him to the car, then the visual signal had to get back. Leaning forward, he studied the tiny screen with mounting anticipation. Any second now, he'd see the camera image dissolve into snow.

Any ...

Second ...

Now ...

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he exclaimed, staring at the screen and jabbing the button again. "Work, you sonovabitch! Work!"

But on the screen ... nothing happened.

Taylor

"Jesus!" Reave took an involuntary step away from the car. "Then how come ..."

"We aren't dying in a fireball?" I reached into the pocket of my long-coat and showed him what had once been a radio. A red LED glowed balefully on top. "Signal jammer."

"Oh. So what can I do to help?" He didn't even seem to notice that he was deferring to me.

"Shut down this side of the highway, pull everyone back to a hundred-foot minimum perimeter." I gestured at the car. "And take these two idiots into custody once I make it safe for them to get out."

"Yeah, I can do that." He tilted his head. "You're not going to kill them?"

I shrugged. "They surrendered, so they get to live. Anyway, back to business." I leaned in and looked at the lady. "Mrs Hoskins, I want you to listen very carefully. I'm going to wedge my shears in between the door and the frame. Once I've done that, only when I say so, I want you to carefully open the door. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded cautiously. As intended, the repeated references to explosives ensured I had her close and personal attention. "When you tell me to open the door, I'll open it."

"Carefully," I reiterated.

"Carefully," she repeated.

"That's right." I knew that each door had contact points added to it that were now live since Bastard Son had activated them. In order to open the doors, I was going to have to bridge those points.

Sliding my shears in past the door seal, I wriggled them in until I felt them touching the contact points. "Okay, open the door. Carefully."

"Carefully," she echoed again. At any other time or place, either one of us might have been annoyed at the repetition, but right then it was the mantra keeping us alive. Carefully.

I felt the latch disengage, then the door began to edge open. I moved the shears to maintain the contact, then turned them as the gap gradually widened, then opened them. At all times, there was solid metal-on-metal contact between the shears, the door and the frame, maintaining the safety circuit.

"Stop," I ordered, bracing the door with my knee to back up the command. By now, the door was open about six inches; the shears didn't have much more play in them, but that didn't matter.

Kayleen did as she was told, her wide eyes staring up at me. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything's going as planned." Holding the shears in place with one hand, I dipped into my pocket with the other. Back in the basement, I'd wondered why I was attaching alligator clips to wires, but now I wondered no more. It was the work of a moment to attach the clips to the contacts, bridging the gap much more securely. Taking the shears away, I opened the door wide enough to give me access to the side of the seat.

"Oh," she said, staring up at the connecting wire. "Do you always carry something like that with you?"

"Only when I need it." I knelt down inside the open door.

"Can I ... can I get out now?" She sounded almost childishly hopeful.

I shook my head. "Not yet. You're sitting on a pressure sensor, and the seat belt has a wire running through it. Cut either of those connections, and ... boom." I took the shears and sliced open the side of the seat, right where the almost-invisible repair line ran. "Now, let's see ..."

Diving my hand into the split in the cushion, I felt around until I found what I was looking for; the last part of the explosive device they'd installed. Specifically, the detonator. Pulling it free of the Semtex and the connecting wire, I eased it out from under the cushion.

"So it's disarmed?" asked Reave. Such was his faith in my ability to not fuck up that he was standing about two metres away. Or maybe he'd just been ordered to stick close to me.

"I wish." I walked away from the car and set the detonator down. "That's one of four. Three more to go."

I did the driver's side front seat next, fully aware of the timer still ticking down. It felt like it took me less time, though I knew it didn't. The guy in the front looked relieved when I removed the detonator, though less so when I reminded him that there were two more to go.

The kid in the back seat looked worried, so I made small talk to keep him calm while we were opening his door. He paid attention and followed instructions, which was all I could've asked of him.

Once I had the fourth and last detonator out, I made sure they were all in a row, far enough away from anyone that they wouldn't be a problem. "Mrs Hoskins!" I called out, stepping smartly back from them. "Kindly undo your seat belt!"

After a long moment of hesitation, no doubt recalling my repeated admonitions not to do just that, she pressed down on the release. The click of the latch coming free was drowned out by the spiteful crackcrackcrackcrack as the detonators went off all at once.

"Jesus!" blurted Reave. "What the hell?"

"Radio dets," I explained, largely unnecessarily. "The seatbelt buckles send out signals that set off all the detonators at once. Which was why the elaborate precautions. Okay, everyone. You can get out now. Reave, I'll leave you to deal with the nitty-gritty of arresting the ones who need arresting and so forth."

"Right." He gestured troopers forward to take care of that. "So it's safe now?"

"Hardly. There's still that timer I told you about. It's wired to set off a det built into the chassis, and it hasn't got long to go. Everyone needs to get back to the safety perimeter right now." I started toward the car.

"Wait, where are you going?" He followed me toward the car, even as he waved the others back.

"Something I've got to do. You get back."

He paused for a long moment, then muttered something about 'goddamn glory hounds' as he headed back toward the safety perimeter.

I knew I was about to piss him off some more, but I didn't care. He had innocents to take care of and criminals to hand over to the regular cops, so he should be happy with that. But he wasn't even the one I was truly interested in messing with.

Bastard Son

He was still staring with gritted teeth at the screen of the remote, vowing that he was going to find the moron who set the explosives and shove a radio detonator up his ass, when Atropos slid into the driver's seat of the car. Reflexively, he hit the red button again, but it didn't work any more than it had the other fifty times he'd pressed it. Lifting her chin, Atropos seemed to be staring directly into the hidden camera ... then she proved it by making the I'm watching you gesture, aimed directly at it.

Not that he was really paying attention to that. The only other readout on the remote was a digital timer, counting down. Now it was in the single-digit seconds. Go on, he silently urged her. Grandstand. Be a showoff. Try to prove you're smarter than me.

To his mounting glee, she made no move to get out of the car. When the timer hit five seconds, he knew she was doomed; even if she ran for it now, she'd be caught in the blast radius. 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

And then the image on the screen was replaced by hash, and he fist-pumped. "Fuckin' yes!"

Atropos was gone.

He'd won.

Nobody beats me.

Brockton Bay is mine.

Taylor

I aimed the teleport to drop me in the shadow of the PRT van. Nobody saw me arrive; everyone was staring at the roiling fireball, as though expecting me to stride out of it. Which I supposed I could've prepped for, but that would've been too much hassle.

Besides, this way was funnier.

Strolling forward, I ended up behind Reave. One of his subordinates was apparently asking him something over the radio, because he was shaking his head and taking under his breath. "No, she's not dead," he insisted. "I'd bet a year's pay that she'll—"

"—show up again out of nowhere?" I suggested.

He spun around, as did everyone else there. Where they were staring dumbfounded, I got the impression he was glaring. "Did you have to do that?"

"Well, yes." I shrugged. "Bastard Son had a camera in that car. What do you think he's going to assume, with that footage?"

He paused for a long moment. "That you're dead."

I nodded. "So what won't he be prepared for, when he shows up?"

Reave let out the most evil chuckle I'd ever heard from someone who wasn't me. "You."

I tapped my nose and pointed at him. "Bingo."

He shook his head. "Was that always part of the plan, or did you make it up on the fly?"

"Wow, I thought you knew me by now." I spread my hands. "It's all part of the plan."

More headlights were approaching from the direction of Brockton Bay. I knew who they were, and thus I knew it was time to go. "Media incoming. Toodles."

"Wait, where—" But I was already ducking around behind him and activating the teleporter. The shadowy portal formed in front of me, and I stepped through into my living room.

"Oh, hey." Cherie had been sitting up, watching the TV turned down low. "How'd it go?"

I pulled my hat and mask off and grinned. "When Bastard Son gets here, he's gonna have one hell of a surprise waiting for him."

Cherie grinned right back. "Good."

End of Part Thirty-Eight