The press conference was nearing an end. Through the widely-publicized, but fabricated, report of a new movie being filmed that would reveal the character and identity of the international killer known as Coyote, the team had effectively baited the trap. They were anxious to get back to the studio to await the killer’s next move. But as they were leaving the front gardens, they were greeted by Prince Arcani and his wife, Princess Elaine.
“I do hope all of you will stay for the remainder of our Garden Party,” urged the prince.
The four younger members of the team exchanged wordless glances with Jim. Yes, the mission was important, but maintaining their cover was perhaps the most crucial part. It would look a little strange now for all of them to make their exit, particularly if they left at the same time.
Jim broke into his characteristic smile. “Well, thank you very much, Your Highness. I would be pleased to accept your invitation.”
The other agents followed Jim’s lead, and they scattered out to mingle with the crowd for a few additional hours. Finally, the party began to break up. Max noticed Jim standing across the garden and walked up to him.
“Jim,” he began, “some of the other actors were talking about an Actors Guild meeting that’s about to take place inside the palace. A couple of them asked if I would be attending. The press is supposed to be there, too.”
“Then you and Nicholas had better stay behind,” Jim advised, “in case Coyote is watching. We’ll be back at the studio.”
Max nodded. “See you in a little while.”
*****
After a couple of additional hours had passed, the Actors Guild meeting adjourned, and Nicholas and Max started toward the studio, with Max at the wheel. It was approaching one o’clock in the morning.
“Well, there was no sign of Coyote at the party,” mused Nicholas. “I wonder if anything’s happened at the studio.”
“I wish I knew,” answered Max, his lips drawn into a thin line. “Of all the times not to have our communicators.”
The two men traveled in silence for several moments. Suddenly, Nicholas’ keen eye spotted a large misshapen object lying in the road directly in front of them, completely blocking their lane.
“Max, watch out!” he yelled a split second later.
Max had spotted the object at almost the same time. There was no time to stop. Instead, he jerked the wheel to the left to try and miss it. The right front wheel missed the obstacle completely, but the pair felt a thump as the back tire rolled over the edge of it. There was a scraping sound from beneath the car as the tire regained contact with the asphalt.
Max cursed aloud as he brought the car to a halt on the right side of the road. He looked over at Nicholas. “You okay?”
Though shaken at their close call, Nicholas nodded. “You?”
“Yeah,” Max answered tersely, as he reached over to retrieve a small flashlight from the glove box. Then he and Nicholas exited the car. Nicholas went to inspect the object that was lying in the road, then he walked back toward the car. He watched as Max kicked the right rear tire, then crouched down to inspect it.
“It was a big boulder,” reported Nicholas. “It must have fallen from the cliff above us.” He paused for a moment. “How’s the car?”
“Tire looks okay,” Max answered. He directed the light beneath the sedan, then cursed again.
“What is it?” Nicholas demanded, crouching beside his friend, as Max took a closer look.
It was a few anxious moments before Max responded. He reached underneath the car and touched something, rubbed his fingers together, and carefully sniffed them. “There’s a small hole in the fuel tank,” he finally answered. “Gas is leaking out.”
“Does that mean we can’t drive it?”
“Not unless we can find something to patch it.” Max got to his feet and looked all around the inside of the car for something suitable to use to patch the fuel tank. But he came up empty.
“There’s nothing here,” he said, with a note of irritation to his voice.
“So what do we do now?” asked Nicholas.
“I think I remember there being a gas station a couple of miles ahead,” said Max. “Hopefully they have a phone, and we can call the studio and have Grant come and pick us up.”
“You mean we have to walk?”
“You got a better idea?” snarled Max, then bit his tongue apologetically. “Look,” he continued, his voice softer now, “I’d go by myself, and let you stay here with the car, but I think it’s best that we stay together.”
Nicholas sighed. “I agree,” he said. “Let’s go.”
*****
Forty-five minutes later, Max and Nicholas reached the convenience store that Max had recalled from their trip down. They immediately found a pay phone, and Nicholas dialed the number assigned to their studio headquarters.
“It just keeps ringing,” the dark-haired agent frowned. “Nobody’s picking up.”
“Maybe everyone’s asleep,” Max said hopefully.
But after two more tries, it was clear that nobody was going to answer.
“I don’t like this,” Max said worriedly.
“Neither do I,” agreed Nicholas. “So what do we do now?”
“We don’t have a choice. We have to try to fix the car.”
Fortunately, the gas station carried the supplies that Max would need to do a temporary repair on the fuel tank. After purchasing those, plus a gas can with some extra fuel, the two agents began the lengthy walk back to the car.
Once they reached the disabled vehicle, Nicholas helped his friend make the necessary repairs.
“We’re supposed to let this cure for an hour before driving it,” Max explained, “so it won’t leak.”
The two men sat in the car, attempting to make small talk while they waited. With every passing moment, they grew more and more anxious.
Max glanced at his watch for perhaps the tenth time. “It’s been over half an hour,” he observed, unable to mask the worry in his voice. “I say we get moving.”
Nicholas, himself worried, did not argue. He simply nodded his head and reached for his seatbelt, as Max started the car and sped off toward the studio.
*****
As soon as they arrived, Nicholas and Max instantly noticed that the black sedan was missing. Both men felt lumps rise in their throats as they leaped out of the car and hurried inside.
Nicholas was the first to spot the yellow paper. “Max,” he said urgently, and the blond was at his side in seconds. Together, they read the note, written in Grant’s rushed hand:
Coyote shot Shannon. Royal Valence Hospital.
“Oh my God,” muttered Max.
“We’ve got to get over there!” cried Nicholas.
“Let me grab a shower,” urged Max, fully aware that he still reeked of gasoline from the repairs he’d made to their vehicle. “See if you can get in touch with anyone.”
As Max disappeared into the bathroom, Nicholas pulled out the drawer which held their communicators. One was missing, which meant that either Grant or Jim had grabbed one on the way to the hospital. Nicholas hastily grabbed another and pushed the button.
“Jim? Grant?”
“Nicholas! Where in the hell have you been? It’s nearly six a.m.” Grant’s voice was worried. Strained. Exhausted.
“Car trouble,” Nicholas answered curtly. “Is Shannon all right?”
“She made it through surgery,” Grant answered quietly. “That’s all we know right now. Are you coming to the hospital?”
“Yes, we’ll be there as soon as we can,” the dark-haired agent promised. He switched off the communicator and hastily changed his clothes, finishing up about the same time Max emerged from the bathroom. Then, disregarding the fragility of the temporary repair, the two men climbed back into the car and sped toward Royal Valence Hospital.
The End.
(c) 2022
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