At almost two in the afternoon, Leo and Nora breached Boston’s city limits. No matter the time of day, the streets were packed from one traffic light to the next with public and private transportation. Leo hung back by several blocks of of bumper to bumper vehicles, and used an alternate route to reach a parking garage. From the roof, binoculars gave him a vantage point of Nora’s destination. He observed her park streets away from where she needed to be, and then walk with the sealed suitcase in hand to the exchange spot.
Behind a warehouse where trailers lined up to be loaded, Nora briskly strode along a chain link fence to a decommissioned tractor. She lifted off the ground using the steel steps to the driver’s door, and pulled on the vertical handle. A briefcase waited for her inspection underneath the steering wheel. She sat her product on the driver’s seat, and opened the case to find the neatly stacked paper bills.
Unwrapping one of the stacks, she inspected the money for authenticity. Nora huffed an agitated breath and frowned. Fishing her phone from the pocket of her suit jacket, she went to text Leo but saw a missed message from him two minutes ago. “Get out of there.”
Nora snapped the lid shut on the counterfeit cash, and grabbed the handle for the case with her painstakingly crafted product inside. As she rapidly turned to vacate the area before the trap could be sprung, she came face to face with the barrel of a pistol and several officers of authority. Two nondescript vehicles pulled up at the front and rear of the tractor, blocking off her most accessible exits. Undercover officers emerged from the driver’s side of both cars, adding their pistols to the threat.
Before they could even speak to demand that she drop the briefcase and surrender, Nora slammed the heel of her palm into the wrist of the officer holding the gun to her. It fired, the bullet missing her head by an inch. The same palm snapped forward into his chin, followed up by a swift kick to his groin. With her target disoriented, she smacked his wrist again on the underside with enough force to make his fingers loosen their grip on the gun. It clattered on the asphalt and she wrapped her arm around his neck, drawing his back against her to use him as a shield. She retreated against the tire of the tractor, keeping him firmly in front of her with her arm tense enough to choke if necessary. “Tell your men to let me go and I won’t kill you,” she hissed into his ear.
Beyond the crowd of officers with arms and hands tense, ready to squeeze triggers the instant they could without risking injury to their comrade, a sleek, black car with heavily tinted windows drifted around a turn. The wheels spun and squealed as the driver slammed down on the accelerator to speed behind the tractor before any officer could comprehend this vehicle’s intentions.
Nora recognized the sports car immediately. Arm clinging around the officer’s throat, she ascended the steps into the cab backward on heeled dress shoes. She leaned and reached the door handle on the inside. At the same time she shoved the officer away, she slammed the door shut. Bullets seeking her body ricocheted with loud clangs.
One officer shouted in command to hold their fire. Nora grabbed the handle of the briefcase with counterfeit cash, and then rolled around the shifter to the passenger side. She pushed the door open, slid to the ground, and dove into the passenger side of the black sports car. The door slammed shut while Leo hit the gas and peeled away from the tractor. “Head down, Nora!”
His wife ducked just in time. Bullets struck the dark windows, the glass fracturing with stress lines but never shattering. He drifted around a corner of stacked lumber, making their bullets hit asphalt instead of rubber. Seconds later, blaring sirens pursued them, and Nora lifted her head. The glove box dropped open, and she picked up the fully loaded uzi gun.
Leo grabbed the gun across the top with his full hand, the other remaining firmly on the steering wheel, and pushed the barrel down. “Love, I know you’re pissed,” he said, glancing toward her with a flicker of crimson in his eyes. “You’re eager for revenge, but you can’t.”
Nora pulled the uzi out from under his fingers and twisted to look back through the rear window. “Fine,” she huffed.
“I need you to navigate for me, dear. Focus on that,” he gently reminded her.
She set the uzi back inside the glove compartment, and left it open for easy access should their situation turn more life threatening. By pressing a button in the plastic border surrounding a screen in the center console, the tablet detached and she brought it in front of her. Zooming out by spreading her thumb and forefinger apart across the screen, she navigated a path to a destination where they could evade the police and gave clipped directions to Leo. As the police began to understand where she was leading them to escape, they preemptively went out of the way to block their path. Nora constantly changed course, making accurate, split second decisions, until they sped up the on ramp to the highway leading out of Boston.
Leo weaved through traffic at top speed, barely avoiding trading paint with other vehicles. Crossing from one lane to the other, and borrowing space on the shoulder when the lanes were blocked, to eventually pull far ahead and lose their pursuers. With too much distance, the police would be on a goose chase. Nora set a GPS destination for a safe house in the mountains, slotted the tablet back in place, and let the automated voice take over providing directions.
Kilena Shrelack 