The Chase and the Catch

Chapter 1-2

You said there’d be a car? John pressed send on the text and looked around the airport for something he might have missed the first thirty times he’d looked. He’d gained three hours on the flight, a concept that registered on his phone and his laptop just fine, but that didn’t do a damn thing for his body. Five hours in a plane was still five hours in a plane, and though the sun was just starting to think about setting, in John’s head it was nine P.M. Most days, by that time, he’d already be dropping Zolpidem on his tongue and washing it down with half a glass of Merlot.

John’s phone buzzed and he lowered his eyes to the screen.

Thats what email said. Is there an info desk you can check with?

The tsk that John answered his agent’s text with was loud enough to make three other people in the airport turn to look at him. Nancy was good, for the most part. But her abilities could be attributed to her people skills, and her ease of convincing people that she was telling the truth and could be trusted. Her British charm, Nancy would always say. When it came to life outside of her bubble, however, most times Nancy didn’t have a clue.

Where do you think I am? Hamilton?! This is LA ffs. And it’s an airport not a travel agency. They don’t know s**t about my ride.

He could visualize the expression that Nancy wore on her face when he received her reply: Dont be rude John. Give me a sec. Ill call.

Rude, John thought, snarling at his phone, would be calling Nancy up and going off on a tirade about “how dare they this” and “how dare they that” and “did they know who”; it was not using the word “s**t” or a risqué acronym in a text message. But no matter how appealing the concept of ranting his importance to someone would be at that moment, he wasn’t that kind of guy. Nor would he ever pull that crap on Nancy even if he was. It would be like yelling at his grandmother. Just give me the address, John typed. I’ll get a cab.

If he thought for even a moment that he could figure out the spider web that was driving in Los Angeles, he’d rent a car. But the map of the parking lot was frightening enough to effectively quash that idea before it started to grow. Besides, he’d only barely started driving again, and every once in a while, he still had to pull over and breathe through the shakes. And that was on good old-fashioned, straight Canadian highways with two-way traffic and nice long merging lanes. While he waited for Nancy’s reply, John wandered back and forth in front of the doors that ran between the terminal and the parking area, praying in silence that he wasn’t drawing the attention of airport security. When he’d first arrived, the lane had been crawling with vehicles, but most of the people had come and gone. It’s not like he would have missed a vehicle waiting for him, even if the driver was enough of a dumbass to have not brought a sign. The only explanation was that someone, somewhere, had mixed up the terminals, and that was simply ridiculous as the airline he was travelling with only flew into one of them. He glanced down at his silent phone, blew a long breath of annoyance, and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Food would be good. Coffee would be fantastic. Alcohol would be even better. Did he dare wander?

When his phone finally buzzed again, John’s relief was all encompassing. He lit the screen, opened the envelope, and frowned.

I’m not sure if I find your impatience flattering or annoying.

John’s stomach fluttered. He swallowed. He didn’t recognize the number, but it only made sense that it had to be Parker. It could have been one of the man’s dignitaries, but surely they wouldn’t have phrased a reply to sound so condescending. John’s fingers flew over the tiny keyboard. Who is this?

The phone pinged at the same time a black Lincoln pulled out in front of the doors and stopped. Remember how we’re all told as children that there’s no such thing as a stupid question? That was a lie. I hope you’re smarter in person.

With more force than required, John thumbed the display button of his phone and turned off the screen. Really? Really? He rubbed his palm over his lips and chin, craned his neck to the right, then to the left, and resisted the urge to take out his sudden spike of anger on the phone. Trying to replace it while being stuck in another country would be difficult. It would be costly, at the very least. Definitely not worth the moment of satisfaction. The driver of the Lincoln flipped over a white placard and stared at John through the glass doors with bored professionalism. Yep. It was his driver all right. ‘Liege’ in tall gold scroll shone off the sign. And wasn’t that the image of overdone, John thought. Marker on paper would have worked just as well. Especially for someone as stupid as he apparently was. He stared at the blacked-out windows of the vehicle and narrowed his eyes. God help the man if Parker waited in the car.