Marcos was fuming. He had never been undressed like that in his life. Even worse, the Mastermind was proving to be omniscient. How did the Mastermind know exactly where he was and what he was doing?
“I don’t pay you to think. Turn around and get back to the warehouse, now,” Marcos mimicked through gritted teeth.
He was almost back to the warehouse when he realized he was being followed. Reeves must have gotten the drop on him.
Marcos slammed his palms against the steering wheel and hit the gas, turning left at a red light. If he hadn’t been so spooked by the Mastermind, he would’ve noticed sooner. Now it was almost too late. He had almost led someone to the hideout.
“Interesting,” Marcos mumbled. “Two tails?”
A silver BMW . Reeves. But who was in the Dodge Caravan?
Marcos snaked through traffic making frequent turns. He knew exactly where he would lead them. That was until his phone buzzed.
“Lose the tails or die,” The Mastermind said.
“Who is this guy!?” Marcos exclaimed.
After Randall finished his reconnaissance of Sara’s house, he returned to Arnold and started drawing on an Etch-A-Sketch. “Here’s what we’re up against. All the lights are out, which is good, but there are two problems.”
“There’s a security light right here, just shy of Chloe’s window. It appears to have a motion-sensor.”
“And the other problem.”
“Two guard dogs just over the fence. What we need is a diversion.”
“A what?” Arnold asked as Randall gave him a boost over the fence.
“What are you doing?” Arnold said, chills running down his spine.
“I’m climbing this ladder to rescue Chloe.”
“Then why did you push me over the fence!?” Arnold shrieked.
“You’re the diversion,” Randall said, knocking lightly on Sara’s window. She climbed out and stared at Arnold sadly. “We know you’re the mole. You led division to Starbucks and compromised our mission. Good bye, Edgar.”
Guillermo and Victor were anxious. Marcos had been gone for a while. And he had not placed either of them in charge before he left. They wanted to check up on the kid, but couldn’t decide who should do it.
“There’s only one way to settle this,” Victor said.
“We call Marcos?” Guillermo responded.
“Forget Marcos. We play Halo 3. Winner’s in charge.”
After much arguing, they finally agreed upon Sniper Rifles and Plasma grenades: first to ten kills.
Jason overheard his captors’ discussion and decided to make a move. If he was going to escape, the odds were much better with Marcos out of the picture.
“I need to go to the bathroom again!” Jason shouted, thankful that Marcos had removed his gag just before following his misinformation: Chuck E. Cheese was a dead end.
“Hold on!” Guillermo exclaimed, before whispering. “I’ve got him right where I want him.”
Victor ran off four straight kills to win 10-9. With a cocky swagger, he opened the door. “What do you want?”
“Come on,” Randall instructed. “If we cut through the woods, we can stay off the grid and get there faster at the same time.”
“What about Edgar?” Sara asked. Her house was a block away, but she could still hear Arnold’s girlish screams. “We can’t just leave him.”
“Edgar is dead,” Randall said.
“He’s dead!” Randall insisted. “Poisoned by Sarin gas.”
Sara tried a different tact. “Milo…”
“Dead,” Randall said. “Shot by Chinese nationals.”
Sara stopped in her tracks.
“We can’t trust him,” Randall explained. “He sold us out to Division.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if he’d done what he was supposed to and sent them to decoy point, they never would have believed us when we did the same thing,” Randall said. “Now come on. Jack needs us.”
Randall darted into the forest. Sara paused, held back by Arnold’s squeals of fright, then followed Randall in. She instantly became lost in the darkness.
“This would go so much more smoothly with a GPS ,” Sara quipped.