Countdown 5 Hours: Nowhere to Run, Stay by My Side (Part 2)
I grabbed her hand and rushed toward the door.
When I reached Captain Reeves, I stopped.
"One more thing—help me track Damian's whereabouts."
That was what I'd been thinking about the whole time. The dark web could only give us so much information. Damian's real-time location was beyond anything Jessica and I could determine on our own. But a police captain—a man with resources, contacts, and authority on the ground—could.
"Don't get the wrong one. Forty-two years old. British-Chinese, likely entered from Hong Kong. He's the mastermind behind all of this."
I patted his shoulder. "I hit you harder than I should have. Sorry about that."
He grabbed my wrist—startled me for a second—but I quickly realized he couldn't even execute a basic joint lock anymore. His strength was gone.
25
4 hours 49 minutes remaining
Reeves hadn't called for backup. That was consistent with his character—he didn't play dirty. Even if he called for reinforcements now, I'd have plenty of time to get away.
"You beat him up. You really think he'll help us track Damian?" Jessica asked.
"He will."
"Seriously?"
"He's already starting to believe me. He just hasn't realized it himself yet."
But the most pressing problem right now was Derek's death.
In this 2007 world, Derek was nothing more than a high school student—Jessica's and my classmate. The confrontation at the internet café had had plenty of witnesses, including two police officers who hadn't been knocked unconscious. So the "facts" of this world were as follows: Marcus had participated in a murder (Victor's death), then called the police and fled the scene first. After that, he'd assaulted officers at the internet café and gotten into a confrontation with another high school student. During that confrontation, both parties were suspected of using firearms.
From the witnesses' perspective, Derek's death clearly hadn't been caused by my attack. But under the law, I was now a wanted suspect.
Suspect, then. Fine.
In 2017, I was the best detective in the precinct. With 2007's technology, they had no chance of catching me within the next five hours.
But how did Derek die?
"Where are we going?" Jessica asked.
"The police station. The morgue."
It was 7 PM. The sky was completely dark. We were on a small, deserted road, a cold wind cutting through the night. Jessica fell silent for a moment, then gripped my hand tighter.
"I'll steal a car and drive us there. You can wait inside."
Jessica shook her head. "I want to see for myself."
"You're not scared?"
"I'm terrified. But I want to prove you're not a killer."
She was thinking the same thing I was. Traveler Number Five—the one who'd murdered Victor—had claimed I'd killed three people. That meant the three travelers who'd come through before me.
If Derek's body could prove I hadn't killed him, then the "three kills" accusation would fall apart.
We stood at the intersection. Within moments, an empty taxi pulled up. Jessica and I got into the back seat.
"Police headquarters, please," I told the driver.
The driver nodded and started the car.
Then he began shifting up through the gears. Accelerating. Shifting again. And again. Within seconds, the speedometer had climbed past 100 kilometers per hour.
This taxi was a trap.
I calmly reached over and buckled Jessica's seatbelt, then my own. The driver heard the clicks and slowly turned his head, catching my eye in the rearview mirror.
"I'm guessing you're headed for the autopsy," the driver said with a strange grin. "No need. Derek—I'm the one who killed him."
I recognized that face. He wasn't a taxi driver at all. He was the mastermind behind several international criminal cases, a career fugitive and professional assassin.
Mad Dog Lee.
26
4 hours 39 minutes remaining
"You do whatever it takes to get the job done. Forget rules, forget justice."
That was what Damian had said.
But I hadn't expected his "whatever it takes" to reach this level.
Mad Dog Lee was his Chinese moniker. In Interpol's files, he was listed as "Mad Lee." The dossier described a man who operated with reckless abandon, devoid of any moral bottom line. In 2015, he'd assassinated a businessman on Chinese soil—and to cover his tracks, he'd murdered the man's entire family.
But even the craziest individuals have motives behind every action.
"Your target was Victor. Why kill Derek?"
"To find you."
He pressed the accelerator harder still, the car hurtling forward.
"I don't know how to track people. But the police can do it for me."
"So you killed Derek to put me on the wanted list?"
He pulled a police radio from his jacket and waved it in front of my eyes.
Mad Dog Lee explained: he'd arrived in Essen City just as Derek and I were facing off at the internet café. By the time he got there, Jessica and I had already fled. So he'd improvised—a flawlessly executed frame job. He'd slipped into the café, used a concealed blade to finish the already-wounded Derek, and let the blood flow. In the ensuing chaos, he'd stolen a police radio.
Then Captain Reeves had gone to the hotel alone to find me. We'd fought. He'd lost. He'd called for backup, broadcasting my location. Mad Dog Lee had intercepted the transmission from the stolen radio, hijacked a taxi, and parked near the hotel, waiting for me to walk right into his trap.
"Pretty slick, wouldn't you say?"
"Murderer!" Jessica shouted from beside me.
"Careful now. We're past 140 kph. One twitch of the steering wheel and everyone dies."
The car had merged onto a highway now, and Lee drove with even more reckless abandon.
But at this speed, he'd cover the entire length of the city highway in thirty minutes. When we reached any toll checkpoint and the car was forced to slow down, that would be my moment.
"Lee, you know I can't give you the parameters."
He looked up, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror, and broke into an exaggerated grin.
"I'm not asking you to hand them over. I'll take them myself."
"You're in the front seat. I'm in the back. The advantage is mine no matter how you look at it." I kept my voice low, trying to project some menace.
"I know exactly what you're planning. Wait for the car to slow at the highway exit, then choke me out from behind." He dismantled my strategy without a hint of concern. "But what if I don't slow down?"
He slammed the accelerator to the floor. The sudden burst of speed threw both Jessica and me hard against our seatbacks.
He'd already made his move.
"I know what you're capable of. I'm not stupid enough to go toe-to-toe with you." Lee was shouting now to be heard over the engine's roar.
No time to hesitate. Before I'd even regained my balance, I lunged forward, both hands reaching for the back of his neck. If I could get a grip, I could render him permanently immobilized—a technique Captain Reeves had taught me and emphasized was only for the most extreme circumstances.
Though if I applied it, Lee's body would go limp and the car would inevitably crash—probably roll four or five times.
But I had no choice. Crashing now was better than crashing at 200 kph. And Jessica and I both had seatbelts; we'd survive the impact.
Before I could lock my grip, Lee yanked the steering wheel left. The turn wasn't sharp, but at this velocity, the g-force nearly snapped my neck. Jessica slammed into the window with a cry of pain.
The slight left turn sent us hurtling across the median barrier and into oncoming traffic.
"Seatbelts aren't enough at this speed. What you really need is an airbag." Lee's voice dripped with malice.
A blinding light bore down on us from the diagonal. The horn of an oncoming vehicle went from a sharp shriek to a muffled roar. A Jeep slammed into our rear quarter, and the entire car launched into the air, flipping end over end.
27
4 hours 10 minutes remaining
Darkness.
The sound of work boots on heavy steel plates, drawing closer.
Ragged breathing—a woman's breathing, choked with sobs, muffled. She was gagged. Jessica.
My mouth was stuffed too. I couldn't call out to her.
It was a long while after regaining consciousness before I registered the pain radiating through my entire body. My skull was still buzzing. I carefully tested each limb and joint, taking stock of my injuries. Abrasions. Deep bruising around the joints. Two fractured ribs. I took two careful breaths and confirmed that no internal organs had been punctured.
A click—the lights came on.
But they were dim. Everything required effort to make out.
The man in the work boots approached me. Lee.
"Feel good?" His voice cut through the murk.
He clapped me on the shoulder—deliberately hitting one of my injuries, sending a fresh wave of pain through my body and forcing my brain into sharper focus.
"When a person's injured, the brain releases massive amounts of dopamine to counteract the pain. Makes you feel almost euphoric." Lee pressed harder on my wound, and I grunted despite myself. "Enjoying it?"
My eyes were slowly adjusting, but I could only make out rough shapes. In the dim light, Lee stood before me, drenched in blood, looking like something out of a nightmare.
Jessica was sitting across from me, also covered in filth, tied to a chair. Whether from cold or terror, her entire body was trembling.
Lee yanked the gag from my mouth.
"Marcus, you sly bastard." He raised his hand, and dangling from his fingers was the black hard drive containing the parameters. "Swapped them out already? That was fast."
"What are you talking about?"
"Where are the real parameters?"
What real parameters? The hard drive had been on me the entire time. It had never left my possession. Even when Jessica had offered to hold onto it, I'd refused. I was a detective—a man who'd handled every type of criminal. Nobody could switch something out on me without my knowledge.
When I didn't answer, Lee sighed. "Fine. I'll count to five."
He drew a knife from inside his jacket. Even in this dim, squalid room, the blade caught the light and flashed with a cruel, icy brilliance.
Lee walked behind Jessica, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pressed the knife against her throat.
"Tell me where the real parameters are. Or she dies."
"Lee... the ones I gave you are real—"
"One."
"Lee, the parameters are in there, you know that!"
"Marcus, do you think I won't kill this girl?"
Of course he would. He was Mad Dog.
"Lee, this has nothing to do with her. Let her go first."
Lee shook his head.
"Two."
The knife drove into Jessica's shoulder and pulled out in a single, savage motion. Blood followed the blade.
"Tell me!" Lee roared over Jessica's screams and whimpers. "Where are the real parameters!"
"Damn you!" I thrashed against the ropes with every ounce of strength I had, but the bindings were thick and unyielding. All my effort was wasted.
"Speak! Where are the parameters!" Lee kept shouting.
After struggling until my body went cold, I looked at Jessica—bleeding, sobbing, shaking—and a memory from ten years ago crashed over me like a wave. This scene was exactly the same as when that masked man had dragged her into the bedroom.
Ten years. Exactly the same.
And I could do nothing.
"Lee, my parameters are real! Nobody could have swapped them out on me!"
Lee paused.
For a moment, a flicker of hope surged through me. But—
"Incorrect." His voice was barely a whisper. "Three."
The knife plunged down into the back of Jessica's hand.
Her scream tore through the room.
"Bastard! You bastard!" I stomped and thrashed, fighting the ropes, cursing him with everything I had. "I'll kill you! I swear to God I'll kill you!"
Lee returned to his position behind Jessica, gripping her hair, the knife once more at her throat. He waited calmly for my rage to burn itself out.
"Four."
I realized, through the haze of fury and fear, that this was my last chance to convince him. I forced myself to go still. I forced myself to think past Jessica's anguished crying, past the blood, past the rage hammering in my temples.
"Lee, I promise you—I'll help you find the real parameters. I don't know how they disappeared, but I'm the only one who can track them down. Let Jessica go. She doesn't know anything."
I was terrified. I'll admit it. I was scared out of my mind.
I couldn't bear to watch Jessica die in front of me again.
"Please. I'm begging you."
Lee's face was blank, his eyes fixed on mine. He said nothing for several long seconds.
Then: "One."
The knife swept across Jessica's throat in one swift motion. A thin red line appeared on her skin.