Straitjacket

Chapter VIII

I walk away from the Police Station, my head throbbing with anger, my fist smartening up from breaking an officer’s nose.

How could they refuse any form of aid? This is an emergency for god’s sakes! After informing me that Claire and Alex Jr. have most likely fallen victims to the Guerrero syndicate’s modus operandi, they do nothing more.  Damn very helpful. And then I hear someone say that what I’m asking for is help from a local police unit with no more than thirty members  to take on an internationally notorious syndicate –  it’s just utterly unreasonable and laughably impossible.

I lost my control just then and smash the face of the one who spoke. I was immediately ordered out of the station before I could cause any more trouble.

I form a plan while I ride my Mustang back to Liam’s apartment.

I arrive after only five minutes, speeding like crazy along the highway. I go to the Security Room and watch the same feed showing Liam as he arrived and received his phone call. I turn the dials back for two hours’ worth.

Too far. I fast-forward about an hour or so into the record, and I find what I am looking for.

About twenty minutes before Liam arrives, Claire appears around the corner of the street, Alex jr. in hand and Ozzy strutting after her. Claire gazes expectantly up the windows, then directly to the camera.

I feel a pang on my chest from that familiar deep-blue gaze of hers.

Just then, a black van arrives and four masked men forcefully take Claire and the baby inside. I grip the edge of the flatscreen showing the feed, knowing bitterly that I can do nothing more than watch. Ozzy mauls at a fifth, unmasked one but the man pulls off a sawed-off shotgun from a briefcase and shoots at Ozzy point-blank.

Ozzy leaps out of the way but some of the shrapnel grazes and enters his body, and he gets blown back by the force.

The man who shot Ozzy spots the camera and kisses goodbye in its direction. I burn in my memory the man’s Hispanic features. Anger pulses throughout me, but I do not let it take over. I have to be calm. Liam’s being detained at the airport’s security for carrying an unregistered firearm and the cops are refusing any form of help. I am the only one left who can do anything about the situation.

The van drives out of the corner and the feed showed no more.

After about a second, Ozzy gets up, blood flowing steadily from his sides. No, don’t do it, I say in my mind. Somebody must have heard the shot fired. Ozzy, just be a good boy and lie down, wait for medical attention. . . I know he wouldn’t, but I still hope like an idiot. He sniffs around and after a moment, begins to runs after the van that took Claire and Alex Jr. away.

From where he was shot, to the airport, where he dies, I conclude in my head.

My heart melts for him. The obese dog, the nuisance who wakes me up on the rare nights that Alex Jr. sleeps soundly – now. . . Ozzy, you’re such a great, great part of the family . . . But time to grieve for him shall come in the future. For now, Claire has no other hope of getting rescued but me. I must focus.

At home, I tap impatiently away at my keyboard. Even my supercomputers have a hard time breaking through CIA’s firewalls. An hour earlier, I have broken through the Department of National Defense’s commands of their satellite without the agency’s knowledge. I use the satellite to track the van’s movements – which proved to be difficult for I only have its plate to lead me. After some time, the satellite is able to triangulate the van’s location some five states around Lakewood.