Jet didn’t have time to survey the area. She kept running. Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it would burst. She snatched a brief look behind her. Flashlights of several men bobbed like lures in an angry ocean of fear and self-doubt. She ran around container after container, the landscape reminding her of the ports she had seen near Milford and Newport. Once, her father had taken her to see a giant aircraft carrier. She had marveled at the floating city; its multiple layers, alcoves, and all the potential hiding spots fascinated Jet. She had asked her father if they could play hide-and-seek.

She found no hiding spots anywhere she looked, and the men were gaining on her. Judging from the shouts and obscenities she heard, they weren’t happy either. She could see two metal buildings on opposite ends of a narrow alley, just wide enough for a normal-sized car. It was dark, so she slowed a little. It would not do her any good to invite opportunities for additional injury. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The men were still behind her but coming at a slower pace.

Are they searching the containers? she wondered.

The narrow alley ended, and she was in a wide-open space now. Jet could see a gate on the other side of the yard. She wouldn’t have been able to see that much if the moon hadn’t been out. She started sprinting toward the open gate as fast as she could, her adrenaline fueling the process even more. The gate was maybe a hundred feet away when several lights turned on all around her. She kept running. Jet was almost there when a long vehicle stopped just in front of the gate, blocking it. She tried slowing, but tripped and then slammed into the van, falling to the gravel below. Three men emerged from the vehicle. One man had a large metal box, and another was holding a stand. A third man was holding a large machine gun. It looked like something out of a movie.

“Stand aside, miss, we have business with the boys down yonder,” a burly man said.

The man had a southern American accent. The men moved around her, setting up the gun just behind some piece of machinery. She looked back. At least twenty men had given chase. Many of them looked like the cabin boy from the boat. Some were dressed in robes, others looked like longshoremen. The newcomers opened fire. It was an awful sight to behold. Bullets tore through the men like they were paper dolls. She looked up as limbs separated from bodies. Blood sprayed from decapitated men. It sounded as bad as it looked. Jet tried turning away, but couldn’t. She was fixated. Jet wept, and she wasn’t sure if it was for the men or what was happening to them. She felt lost.

She felt a hand pull her from behind, and she looked up at a tall man. He was dressed in a trench coat, was middle-aged, and well groomed. He opened a small metal case, removed a cigarette, and placed it in his mouth without lighting it.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Hello. You must be Josephine,” the man said.

“Who . . . are you?”

The man smiled.

“Well, that is a good question. I’m many things to many people, but for the moment I’m your savior.”

Jet said nothing. She was dumbfounded. Why are these men here, and how does this man know who I am?

“My name is Jeremiah. All you need to know for now is that Nigel sent me.”

“How do you know Nigel?”

Jeremiah pointed at the gunners, his ears, and then the large vehicle behind him.

Jet understood what he wanted. Is it a good idea to get in a car with this man? she wondered.

Jet took a chance. She followed him into a vehicle that reminded her of a military Hummer: bulky and armored. When she entered the vehicle, she noticed the seating configuration. It was like a limo: people could face each other. Jeremiah sat across from her.

“How do you know Nigel?” Jet demanded.

“Straight to the point, I see. He is working with me,” Jeremiah said.

“Bullshit. If he had, I would know about it.”

“It is a recent development.”

“How long?”

“A few days. He tracked Gregor down, infiltrated his computer, and stole information from me.” Jeremiah paused before continuing. “My daughter tracked him down in the States and brokered a deal. Her beauty didn’t hurt, either. From what I understand, he is quite taken with her,” Jeremiah said, smiling.

Jet felt her blood boil.

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain how Nigel knew where I was,” Jet said.

“Your cell phone attempted to connect to a cell phone tower as soon as you got to Morocco,” Jeremiah explained.

The cabin boy must have taken my phone!

Nigel tracked me? Now, that sounded like the Nigel she knew.

“That still doesn’t explain why you are meeting me.”

“I’m a lot closer, and I have a private jet at my disposal. Time was of the essence, and from the looks of it, we were just on time.”

Jet said nothing for a long time.

“So what’s the plan now that you have found me?”

“Take you to meet Nigel!”

The gunshots were more sporadic now. Jet winced. Have they killed everyone?

“I’m afraid that you only have a few minutes to decide,” Jeremiah told her.

“Can I speak with him, or anyone else who is with him—perhaps Mrs. Watson?”

Jeremiah picked up a large phone and handed it to Jet.

“Be my guest. Just dial the full number including country code—the country code for the US is one,” Jeremiah said.

Jet nodded, then called Nigel on his cell phone: voicemail. She tried three more times before leaving a message.

“Hey, Nige! I’m with some guy who goes by Jeremiah. Did you send him? We will call back later.”

She handed the phone back to Jeremiah.

“See? You shouldn’t worry about me,” Jeremiah said.

Jet noticed a slight smile on Jeremiah’s face.

“I need your answer. Time is of the essence.”

Jet nodded.

“I need a verbal answer,” Jeremiah said.

“Yes, let’s just go.”

Jeremiah left the vehicle and said something to his men, who started packing up their equipment. In less than a minute later, they left.