Nemesis Chapter 39

Nemesis Chapter 39

Max was poised to give chase, but wouldn't move until he was sure his leader was safe.  Nicholas kept a steady eye on the monitor's blip as he called out to his leader.

"Jim!  Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

"I'm okay," Jim responded, having leapt out the back door prior to the blast, causing Nicholas and Max to sigh in relief.  "Thanks for the warning.  Have you got them?"

"We're tracking them now," Nicholas answered.

"Good," Jim smiled in satisfaction.  "Keep them in sight."

"Jim, the car's destroyed."

"It's all right, Nicholas.  Don't risk losing them to come get me.  I'll hide out in the woods until you guys come pick me up.  I'll be okay."

Satisfied, Max took off after the maroon car, staying out of sight but within range of the tracking device.  He drove in silence, gripping the steering wheel tightly with his right hand.  Nicholas spoke only to advise Max when to make a turn.  After a little over half an hour, the blip finally stopped moving.

Max stopped the car just out of sight of the compound.

"Be careful," Nicholas urged, as Max got out and approached on foot, proceeding cautiously.  He made note of the street address and used his binoculars to survey the outside of the building.  Satisfied, he got back into the car.

"Find anything?"  Nicholas asked as they headed back.

Max nodded.  "The telephone hookup is in plain sight and easy reach.  We can use Grant's gadgetry to tap into it easily."

"We'll do that tonight," Nicholas agreed, as they headed back to pick up Jim.

*******

When the two men entered the compound, Garcia was pacing the floor and Christie was sitting at a table, smoking a cigar.

"Well?"  Garcia prompted.

"Phelps is dead," one of the men replied smugly.  "We blew up his compound, and his car."

"Did you make sure?"  Christie pressed.  "Did you see a body?"

The two men looked at one another, and the second man shook his head.

Christie stood up abruptly and stormed across the room, coming nose to nose with the two men.  "Fools!  Fools!"  he spat in disgust, his cigar looming in their faces.  "I should have you both shot for this!"

"But nobody could have survived that blast, Mister Christie."

"He survived a gunshot wound and a staged car crash," he muttered, his speech peppered with obscenities as he recalled their previous encounter five years ago.  "I refuse to believe he's dead until I see a body."

"But, John," Garcia said tentatively, "he was alone.  There was nobody else around who could have helped him."

Christie glared at Garcia.  "Phelps doesn't work alone," he sneered.  "You said yourself that there were two people in that car at the warehouse."

"Surely you don't think any of his team could still be alive?"

The look in Christie's eyes made Garcia's blood run cold.  "I don't know if he's working with his old team or a new team," he answered, "but I wouldn't put anything past Phelps.  If he happens to turn up again, let me know.  I'll take care of him myself."