“Container make it alright?”
“Yes, but did they mention that it was an air cargo container?”
“I don’t really recall, why?”
“Well, it’s not too large I’d say eight by eight about six foot tall.”
“Well it’ll be close but what else are we going to do but live with it.”
“You’ll be getting a packet of legal paperwork tomorrow from Hartwell construction. I sold the land today.”
“How much did you get?”
“Three point five million dollars.”
“Three point five million, you are kidding me, aren’t you?”
“No, that's what he offered and I accepted he said he’d have the contract sent to your office tomorrow.”
“That’s good we can have it in the bank before we leave then. So I guess we’re picking up the bike then dinner?”
“Sort of, except after the bike I have to go to Sean’s and pick up something special.”
“I had a feeling when the bike came back I’d be back to worrying about you.”
“It won’t be too many more times and soon enough we’ll be alone on a mountain in Peru.”
After dinner Wren heads over to Illinois and back to see her cousin. It nearly broke her will to leave Norman alone but this time he had to stay behind. It is just getting dark when she pulls into the lot and walks into the store stepping directly up to the counter.”
“Can I help you?”
“Sean O’Malley please.”
“I’m sorry miss but he isn’t here right now and we’re just about to lock up so if you don’t need anything would you please leave.”
Wren reaches across the counter and grabs the man by his shirt pulling him halfway across the counter so she is looking straight into his face and in a cold hushed and deliberate voice she speaks to him again.
“I know Sean, and I know he never leaves early. Now we can do this the hard way or we can do this the easy way. Get me Sean and get him NOW!”
She lets go of him abruptly and he falls face first into the counter.
“Now you listen to me bitch.”
Wren leaps over the counter and brings a fist into his stomach hard enough to make him vomit down the front of his clothes as he falls to the floor.
“NO ONE CALLS ME THAT!”
“Wren! How great to see you again.”
“Sean, this piece of filth just told me you weren’t here and that I should leave.”
“That’s it Todd out the door I’ll mail you your final check, don’t ever come through my doors again!”
Two other clerks rush up and physically drag Todd out of the door as Sean turns his attention back to Wren.
“I’m sorry Wren I hired him a week ago and he’s been nothing but trouble to my customers. Come on in the back I’m sure there’s something I can do to help you.
Luke would you please lock up when it’s time?”
“Sure thing mister O’Malley.”
Wren and Sean head back into his office and down to the subterranean room.
“Now what do you need?”
“I’m thinking something along the lines of a hand grenade and a pair of handcuffs.”
“You and Norman getting a little kinky already?”
Wren gives him a very stern look and he stops laughing.
“I think I have just what you want over here. It’s Brazilian in origin, small, light has about a fifteen second timer before detonation.”
“About fifteen?”
“Well thirteen to seventeen actually, fifteen is just an average. Not like you can test each one individually now is it.”
They walk back up top, the store is closed, the lights out as they fit a set of toy handcuffs to the grenade. She steps back into his office and changes into her racing suit. She re-emerges as the Predator black from head to toe.
“Good hunting, Predator.”
She arrives back at Missouri Baptist Hospital at eleven forty-five and sits motionless in a darkened corner of the parking lot waiting for him to come out from work. She can plainly see his Harley sitting at the other end of the lot from her, under the warm yellow glow of the street lamp. It’s a beautiful bike even from this distance. Almost all chrome, gleaming as the light reflects off its many facets causing it to sparkle like a diamond. It seems a shame to Wren that something of such beauty would soon be just a pile of twisted metal around the piece of excrement that is its rider. But she knows all too well that it is merely a machine even if its looks do border on art; her target is still the same.
A small group leaves the hospital all in their maroon orderly scrubs. Again she picks him out fast carrying his helmet. She watches the group walk across the lot stopping now and then as they get to someone’s car. The group keeps getting smaller until finally only two are left. They stop and talk for what seems like ages though it can’t be more than ten minutes. Eventually he goes on to his bike and mounts it. He starts it and is fastening his helmet when he stares at Wren sitting in the shadows. His gaze lingers in her direction for sometime as he settles in and starts off. Wren watches him as he threads his way through the lot. She starts her own bike and follows trying to keep a slight distance from him so as not to scare him into another run. She is three cars behind him at the light onto Ballas as he waits to make the left. She can see him watching to his right even at this distance but she knows he can’t see her with the cars in-between, the light changes and they maneuver into the right lane now with only two cars separating them. They make the long sweeping arc onto interstate sixty-four and slide one lane to the left, both cars still in-between. They take the next sweeping arc onto highway two seventy and merge in at highway speed. He moves left another lane but holds his speed down to the limit. The cars soon pull off onto Manchester and they are nearly alone on a nearly vacant highway. Only the sound of the Harley’s engine gives the road any sense of life at this time of night. Wren starts to slowly move in closer to him as they come up on Dougherty Ferry. As she approaches to within two car lengths he starts to accelerate. They play at this game until he suddenly heads the wrong way onto highway forty-four heading away from the city instead of to his home as he ought to be. He slowly accelerates his bike until as they pass over highway one forty-one and out of Fenton and they are soon toying with a hundred and twenty miles an hour. They hold their speed threading in and out of traffic, his highway bars occasionally throwing sparks as he leans too fast and too far. Wren knows by his riding that he is near the bikes physical limits and past the limit of his skill and waits for him to make a fatal mistake. For the next ten minutes they continue with this game, Wren staying just behind him only allowing herself enough room to maneuver if something does go wrong. At Gray Summit they are joined by a patrol car and it is at this point Wren has tired of the whole thing and opens her throttle even more against her better judgment in the dark knowing that she is already out driving her headlights. She pulls the grenade from her jacket pocket and loops the detonator ring around her little finger. Holding the cuff in the fingers of her left hand she finishes her acceleration past him on his right and slaps the cuff around his right wrist yanking the detonator as she speeds off. She is a good half a mile ahead of him when the grenade detonates, she can see and hear the patrol car slamming to a halt as a search light from a helicopter quickly engulfs her. Now she pushes her bike and her nerves to the utter edge and completely opens the throttle. The bike responds and jumps forward hard as she lays tight to the bike, her body becoming one with it. Soon she has passed all reason as she hurtles down the highway at two hundred miles an hour. Only her skill as a racer gives her any advantage as she screams past and between tractor trailers she only recognizes cars by their taillights and in five minutes the helicopter’s light is gone leaving Wren once again alone on the highway. She lets off the throttle and slowly starts applying the brakes in deliberate measured bursts as she brings the bike back down to highway speed. She pulls into a truck stop in Sullivan refuels and after consulting a map takes route one eighty-five to route twenty-one then back to the hotel where at three in the morning she can plainly see Norman pacing in the window as she parks her bike. He opens the door as she gets to it, holding her tightly in his arms. She feels safe there and really doesn’t want him to let go.
“I’ve been so worried about you all evening. And when that T.V. news copter couldn’t keep up with you I really got to worrying about what happened. You can tell me if you want to later but I’m sure you're as tired as I am.”
“I am totally beat but, how did you know it was me?”
“Breaking news about a police chase on highway forty-four two motorcycles in a high speed chase and when one blew up I knew it had to be you even if you couldn’t make out any detail of the rider. They were even talking about catching a glimpse of the Predator in action for the first time.”
“Let’s get some sleep then because as I said I’m beat.”
For all things Maura, MauraAlwyen.com
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