True Faith and Allegiance

The white van raced past Jack on the Strada Alexandrina, but the American remained undetected by leap-vaulting a five-foot-high metal fence and landing in the side yard of a modern two-story home there. He remained crouched on the balls of his feet until the red taillights of the van illuminated the end of the street, then he stood back up.

He saw the dog food and water bowls right in front of him at the exact same time he heard the sound of a large, angry animal rushing at him in the dark. Jack launched back on top of the fence and rolled over, collapsing onto the sidewalk just as a big German shepherd charged forward, its teeth gnashing inches from Jack’s face, but on the other side of the fence.

“Jesus!”

Jack crawled to his feet and ran on, but as soon as he could catch his breath he spoke to his team “Dalca and the white van both made a left onto the road at the end of Alexandrina. I do not have visual.”

Chavez came over the net seconds later. “We can’t pick you up now. We are to the west, trying to get ahead of Dalca. Felix thinks he might try to lose his tail in a park to the north. Suggest you head that way. We’ll get you when we can.”

Jack kept running.

* * *

Dalca waited till the white van was just meters behind him, then he hopped the curb on his bike and began racing parallel to the chain-link fence lining the southern side of Herăstrău Park. The van tracked alongside him with the front passenger window rolled down, and even though the Romanian on the bike didn’t look to confirm it, he felt sure there was a gun pointed his way, so he purposefully laid down the bike, tumbling at high speed just as the crack of a suppressed pistol erupted to his left.

Dalca fell end over end, but he wasn’t seriously hurt and he bought himself a few seconds when the van’s driver went another thirty yards before slamming on his brakes and screeching to a halt.

Dalca got to his feet, ran to the metal fence lining the park, and climbed it as fast as he could, ignoring pain in his knee and back from the bike crash.

* * *

At two hundred fifty yards’ distance Jack could not see the man on the bike in the darkness by the road, but he could certainly see the van, the flash from the gunshot, and then the red brake lights. The sound of screeching tires came next, and Jack realized the action was happening before the traffic circle. This told him Dalca had probably bailed off the bike and climbed the park fence.

Jack had the same fence on his right while he ran, so he immediately shot up to it, heaved himself over, and dropped down into thick woods of Herăstrău Park.

It was nearly pitch-black here in the trees and he would have killed for some night-vision capability, but all he had was a flashlight in his go bag. He decided against using it, giving up situational awareness for personal security, and he just made his way as fast as he could through the woods, straining his eyes and his ears for some signal as to where Dalca was. He knew the Romanian had to be several hundred yards away still, but if he was coming this way, the two men would meet in under a minute.

He thought it more likely Dalca would continue to the north, because that direction was deeper into the park and the opposite direction of the white van chasing him.

Jack himself turned to the north, drawing his pistol for the first time.

“Jack, what’s your location?” It was Chavez.

Softly he answered, “I’m in this big wooded park. Dalca is in here somewhere, he lost the van on the road. Don’t know if hostiles bailed from the van and went in pursuit or not.”

Chavez replied, “We have the van ahead of us. Be advised, it just turned into the park at speed.” Jack heard Chavez ask Felix for the name of the street the van was now traveling on. Felix answered and Chavez relayed the information. “Okay… the van is now on Michael Jackson.”

“It’s where?”

Chavez confirmed with Felix, then said, “It’s a big tree-lined street that runs through the park. Aleea Michael Jackson.”

“Cool,” Jack said as he ran on, his pumping legs and arms exhausting more with each yard. He all but stumbled into a clearing, and the light was better here. He looked off to his left and saw someone running across, well ahead of his position.

“I’ve got him. He’s seventy-five yards to my west and back in the trees on the north side of a clearing. Still heading north, but he looks pretty worn-out. I’m going to keep parallel for now and then try to flank him.”

When Chavez came back over the net, he said, “Shit. We’ve got police sirens and flashing lights up ahead. Looks like one patrol car. They will make the turn into the park before we get there, so we’ll have to hang back.”

Ryan slowed a little on the far side of the clearing, and he doubled his efforts to stay concealed in the trees and darkness as he advanced, holding his pistol down low by his side as he ran on.

* * *