The Big Catch

"Well, I tried," the man said. He flipped the tool in his hand and exploded into action, jabbing the sharp end of his handspike at Jason's eyes and scything his leg at Jason's ankle. With no room to maneuver, Jason dropped into a crouch, dodging the stab by sheer luck. He blocked the kick with his hand, grabbed the attacker's foot and brutally twisted. The would-be burglar grunted in pain and brought his other foot up, crunching his heel against Jason's skull, breaking his grip. Jason stumbled backwards, into Janet.

"Are you all right?" she hissed. Jason growled something indistinct and shook his head.

"Why are you making it so hard for yourself?" the man asked. "Spare yourself the trouble and just hand over the case."

"Fuck you," Jason snapped, now really angry. His head thumped and the adrenaline powering through his system had him firing on all cylinders. Now it was his turn to attack, leading with a knee to the man's midsection. Predictably, he countered that, but Jason wasn't done. He sank his fist into the man's solar plexus, folding him double. The man dropped his tool and stumbled back, coughing.

"Maybe we'll get some useful info out of him," Jason said as he advanced. The man snapped up into an upright position and slammed his elbow into Jason's face. By sheer luck, the hit only grazed his cheek bone instead of pulverizing his nose. But his eyes misted over nonetheless. A heartbeat later, his opponent had Jason's arm brutally twisted backwards, slamming his head into the wall paneling. Jason was still struggling with the fact that his opponent had simply bypassed his guard. He heard the harsh clicking of handcuffs, then his face again hit the wall paneling. Blinking furiously, he managed to clear his vision. In the reflection of the train window, he saw the attacker, twisting up his arms. Jason kicked back in defiance, trying to hit his opponent's shin, but the man parried his attack with ease.

"You're good, but not good enough to tangle with an ex-Spetsnaz, Mister Schroeder," the man chuckled, keeping him at bay with one hand. "Here's how it goes, Miss Cameron. I'll take the case and Mr. Schroeder here back to my stateroom. At the next station I will leave the train and you can have your partner back. Give me the case."

"Janet, don't!" Jason growled. The man yanked at his handcuffs, nearly dislocating his shoulders.

"Don't give her any stupid ideas. You're beaten. Be glad I'll let you walk away in one piece," the Russian said. "The case please."

Janet, with large, frightened eyes, hesitantly handed over the case.

"See, that wasn't too hard, no? You'll see Mister Schroeder again soon," the Russian said, yanking Jason past him. "Walk."

Growling in impotent fury, Jason did as he was told. Maybe there was a chance to get the case back once they were alone? Biding his time, he walked ahead of the Russian, until they reached the door to the next car. He caught Janet sneaking up on them in the reflection of the window, knife ready to strike.

"Jay, no kill!" Jason snapped. The Russian half-turned at the call, but it was already too late. With the agility of a striking cobra, Janet sunk her knife into his right butt cheek instead of his kidney. The man howled in agony as the blade bit into his flesh, dropping to one knee. With a certain measure of satisfaction, Jason slammed his knee under the Russian's chin, sending him sprawling, out cold.

Janet turned him onto his back and knelt on his wrists, patting the man down. With a smile, she produced a key ring and unlocked the cuffs around Jason's wrists.

"Now what?" she asked, looking at the blood pooling under him.

"Get him to his stateroom, bandage him up and get the hell off the train before anyone sees this mess. Damn good job, girl. Who taught you to use a knife like that?"

"Rule eight: Never ask about a woman's past. Here's his ticket. Room 442. Just about there," she said, pointing.

"Your rules are driving me mad," he grumbled, turning the Russian so he was face down, then he grabbed the man's arms and pulled him over to the door to his stateroom.

Twenty minutes later, they were back in their stateroom, door locked tightly.

"I can't believe no one caught us," Janet panted, leaning against the door.

"We should be safe until we're in Vegas," Jason said. "I have the distinct feeling that this wasn't the last attempt. Maybe we should get some sleep. I'll stand guard for six hours, then it's your turn."

"Good idea, but let me fix you up first. Your face looks like you just went twelve rounds with Vladimir Klitschko."

Jason flinched as he traced his cheek. Nothing was broken, thank God, but the hit stung nonetheless. His forehead sported a decent lump as well from the collision with the wall and a murderous headache was thumping between his temples.

"Nothing a few painkillers won't fix," he said, wincing.

"Thank me later," Janet said, tossing him a pack of Ibuprofens. Jason got a drink of water from the sink, gulped two down with it and sat again.

"I'm not tired," Janet said, re-packing her purse. A second later, a mighty yawn hit her. She blinked furiously.

"Your adrenaline is wearing off," Jason said with a knowing smile.

"Fuck," she cursed, slumping down onto a seat opposite him. "Is it always like that after a fight?"

"Yeah. No matter how often you fight, it's always worse than the last time."

"You don't seem to be as tired as I am."

"No wonder, I'm still itching for a fight. Try to catch a nap, I'll keep watch."

"Sure. Yell if something is happening." She curled up in her seat. A few heartbeats later, she was out like a light. Jason got off his seat and unfolded the bunk before carefully transferring Janet over to it. He pulled her shoes off and tucked her under a thin blanket. Her eyes fluttered open and she shot him a confused little smile.

"What...?"

"Shhh. All is well. Sleep tight, Jay," Jason whispered and bent down, breathing a soft kiss onto her lips. Janet's arms came up and she pulled him close, kissing him desperately.

From out of nowhere, another yawn hit her and she broke the kiss, giggling helplessly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You rest, I'll be here if anything happens."

Only a soft breathing answered him. Shrugging, Jason started his vigil.

"A fine watch dog you are," Janet teased as they left the train station. The eastern horizon showed the first gentle traces of pre-dawn pink, nearly drowned out by the megawatt neon skyline all around them. This time, their train had suffered some delays, and instead of arriving on schedule at midnight, it was almost 5 a.m.

"Just drop it, Jay," Jason mumbled. Janet was fresh as a daisy, all sparkling eyes and radiant smile, but he felt like a truck had smooched him. Sleeping curled up in the seat wasn't really comfortable, and the lack of sleep in general was piling up. Even the double strength espresso he had before they left the station was only churning his intestines instead of keeping him fully awake. And to top it all off, his sixth sense was tugging at him. He felt watched again, but no matter how hard he looked, he found no conspicuous groups of people, nothing that suggested an overt threat.

"I need some sleep," Jason moaned.

"You've had some," Janet retorted.

"In a bed. Here, right here."

Jason guided her into the cab stand. They slipped into the first cab in line.

"The Luxor," Jason told the driver.

"Sure, buddy," the cabby answered.

The cab pulled away and out onto the strip. The bright lights were almost blinding. A few minutes and the cab pulled up in front of the main door to the black pyramid that was the Luxor.

"This place looks expensive," Janet whispered, as Jason paid the cabby.

"The Countess is paying and I really need a soak and at least two hours of sleep."

"I guess I owe you that, at least," Janet said, following Jason to the front desk.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in a standard room. There was a monster bed, a bathroom almost as large as the bedroom and a couch and love seat in front of a big flat screen TV. As the door closed, Jason dropped his go bag and started stripping on his way to the bathroom. Janet giggled as she watched him stagger with his pants down around his ankles. Kicking his feet, the pants went flying back toward Janet. The door closed and the next sound was of water running.

Janet gathered his clothes, his SiG and his go bag. She had the metal briefcase already and dragged them all to the foot of the bed. Smiling at the splashing sounds coming from the bathroom, Janet moved to the couch, picked up the remote for the TV and turned it on. She scanned the channels, looking for any news related to their adventure, maybe something about Scarletti or Natasha. Nothing came up, no mention of any incidents along the train route, nothing about them or the Countess. Janet settled on the twenty-four hour news channel and zoned out as the anchor droned on.

About an hour later, Jason came out of the bathroom all pink and wrinkly, wearing nothing but a crooked grin and a fluffy hotel towel around his waist. He smiled weakly at Janet and pulled the bed covers back. Dropping the damp towel, he climbed into bed and pulled the covers back up over him, disappearing from sight. Smiling to herself, Janet rose and moved silently around the room tuning off the lights. When just the TV lit the room with its ever changing glow, Janet sat on the couch looking over her shoulder at the lump in the bed that was Jason. She folded her hands on the back of the couch and rested her chin on them, ever watchful as the covers on the bed rose and fell in rhythm to Jason's breathing.

She looked at the clock on the nightstand. It read six thirty in the morning. Sighing, she listened to the news and watched Jason sleep.

When the clock read ten thirty, Janet moved to Jason's side. She had taken a shower earlier and had luxuriated under the multiple sprays. The massage setting had been exhilarating. Now, however, they had other matters to attend to, like breakfast and finally getting a move on. Reaching out, she rested her hand on Jason's shoulder.

"I'm awake," he said quietly, almost scaring the crap out of Janet.

"Did you sleep?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"I did. I'm now ready to chew nails and slay dragons." He chuckled as he turned over to face Janet.

"How about breakfast first?" Janet asked with a wink.

"Sounds like a plan," Jason said, getting out of bed.

Now it was Janet's turn to blush and be distracted. God, he was such a hunk. In more ways than one. She knew that he was fit, but now she could see how toned he was. And the size of his package, even only on half-mast, was impressive. She had to muster all her willpower to not pull him back into bed and have him ravish her on the spot. Squirming on the mattress, she watched as he moved to his bag and pulled out clean underwear, socks and a fresh shirt. He slipped on his boxers, sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks. Putting the shirt on, he rose and looked around for his pants.

"Over on the couch. Gun's is on the table."

"Thank you."

Jason pulled on his pants and clipped the holstered SiG to his belt after checking the magazine. He fluffed the shirt out so that it covered the weapon on his hip.

"You ready?" he asked Janet.

"Oh yeah," she replied, smiling brightly. Either he didn't notice her ogling him or he just didn't care. She knew she wanted to see more of him, and soon.

Jason took the two short steps toward her. He was right there. He bent, grabbed the handle of the briefcase, winked at Janet turned around and got his bag from where she had dropped it earlier. Janet slung her purse over her shoulder, pulled the handle of her roll-a-long bag out and followed Jason out the door. The hall was empty. They made their way to the elevators and then down to the lobby and from there to the restaurant, where they wolfed down a much-needed breakfast. After washing that down with a generous helping of coffee, they returned to the lobby.

Bypassing the line at the front desk, Jason headed right for the concierge.

"Where is the closest auto rental?"

"Second corridor past the front desk, turn right, Enterprise is the first on the left."

"Thank you," Jason said, handing him the key card.

"I'll see to this," the man said.

Jason and Janet were already gone. They made it to the corridor and turned left.

"Look, there's the Enterprise office," Janet said, pointing the way.

"Great, I want to be out of here ASAP," Jason said, picking up speed.

Around noon, they were sitting in a red Dodge Charger, the V8 grumbling deeply as they rolled down the Vegas Strip.

"If you had to choose, which one would you pick?" Janet asked, pointing at the gaudy casino fronts.

"None," Jason said matter-of-factly. "I liked the sunset view when we passed through New York. It was beautiful, despite all the dirt and the grey. But this? This is just one giant fake, a colorful soap bubble fooling the eye. Have you seen how many homeless are there?"

Janet looked out of the window. Mixed in with the tourists, she could see pickpockets, people begging for money and food. Las Vegas was a cruel mistress it seemed. Although New York was no different. Nor was any large city in America. Something caught her eye as they turned off the Strip. She kept one eye on the mirror while Jason made his way to I-15 which they intended to take until they were in California.

"Jason?"

"Hm?"

"I think we're being followed. There's a black Escalade, it's always two cars behind us, no matter what."

"How the fuck did they find us?"

"You think the Spetsnaz guy told them?"

"Either he or Natasha. Well, let's wait and see what happens, maybe they just want to talk."

They drove on in silence, only exchanging tense glances. The Escalade stuck to them like an old wad of gum to an unfortunate shoe but made no move until they were well out of Vegas. Under the baking midday sun, all they could see from horizon to horizon was the unending beige-and-brown of the Mojave desert. And still the SUV drove behind them.

"I don't think they want to chat any more," Janet said, wrenching her gaze away from the rear view mirror and looking at Jason instead. The black-haired driver nodded grimly and floored the pedal, but it was already too late. With the sound of crumpling sheet metal, the front of the Cadillac Escalade tailing them crunched into the rear end of their rented Dodge Charger, rocking both occupants.

"I wish they hadn't taken Offensive Driving lessons from the Dukes of Hazard," Jason retorted, fighting with the wheel.

A moment later, the rear window disintegrated under gunfire.

"Getting serious, are we?" he grumbled, looking back. Both rear side windows of the Escalade had rolled down and men were leaning out, training their AK-47s on their car.

"How can you be so calm? They're trying to kill us," Janet shrieked, trying at the same time to curl up in her seat and look back.

"Who said I was calm? We can kiss our insurance fee good bye now. I don't think Enterprise covers for bullet holes and ram damage. Take the wheel," Jason instructed, opening his seat belt and locking in the cruise control.

"Now? That's not really safe!" Janet protested.

"I can either drive or shoot, I can do both, but accuracy's crap then," Jason snarled, ducking low as more bullets zinged through the car. "Would you please get a move on, Jay?"

Nodding, Janet grabbed the wheel.

"Okay, on three," Jason said.

"One, two, three", they counted together, then crawled over and under each other while trading seats. The gods of vehicular combat were on their side and they managed to pull off the switch without going off the road.

"You know I don't have a license. We're screwed if the cops pull us over now," Janet said, smiling grimly.

"The cops are the least of my problems right now. Use the whole road, make us a harder target," Jason ordered, rolling down the passenger side window. Then he pulled his handgun free, flicked the safety off and leaned out of the window. A third man, sunglasses, military-style buzz cut and expensive suit, was leaning out of the Escalade's passenger window, wrestling with a huge Colt Python.

"Let's make your life a little more interesting," Jason grumbled and took aim. With Janet using all three lanes, that alone was no easy task, and the occasional bullet whipping past his head wasn't helping either. For a moment, he longed to be back in Afghanistan. At least he had proper gear back then, not just a lousy pea shooter. He squeezed off a shot, going for the wheels of the car, but the driver of the Escalade was on top of his game as well and swerved, causing the shot to go wide. The goons opened fire again and Jason ducked back into the car.

"When I tell you to, slow down and keep the car straight for a moment," he suggested. Janet shot him a nervous glance and nodded. The next salvo punched a line of holes into the rear pillar, with a bullet pinging off the suitcase on the back seat.

"This better end now," he grumbled and leaned out of the window. "Jay, now!"

Janet hit the brakes and suddenly both cars were side by side. Grinning fiercely, Jason squeezed off shots in rapid succession, going for the Escalade's front and back tire. His aim was true and the SUV abruptly squealed sideways while the driver wrestled with almost six thousand pounds of out-of-control car.

"Floor it!" Jason called as he ducked back inside. The Charger's interior had turned rather drafty, with the wind whipping at them through missing windows and several bullet holes in the sheet metal. By some miracle, the rear view mirror had escaped the destruction and Jason could see the Escalade, crumpled nose neatly tucked into one of I-15's concrete abutments. Four people were standing around the car, the one with the sunglasses speaking into his phone. Jason was convinced this wasn't the last time they would meet. His gaze flicked towards the briefcase on the back seat again. Were they after the necklace? But then, who apart from himself, Janet and Mr. Scarletti knew about their trip? There were too many things he didn't know, and there were few things Jason Schroeder hated more than being left in the dark.

"Something smells." Jason said.

Janet, still at the wheel, sniffed. "Yeah, fuel. We'd better check." She tapped the brakes and steered the badly mauled Charger off the road. From the outside, the car looked even worse, with lines of bullet holes along the sides and most of the glass missing.

"We can count ourselves lucky they didn't hit the gas tank and blow us up," Jason said, walking around the car.

"That only happens in Hollywood, and only if you use special incendiary rounds. Sheesh, you're the gun nut around here and don't know that? Besides, the Mythbusters disproved that Hollywood cliché." Janet stopped and looked back the way they had come. A thin, wet trail was visible on the asphalt. "And who says they didn't hit the fuel system? Mind getting out the jack and lifting up the car?"

"Sure thing."

A bit later, the car was jacked up and Janet had crawled underneath, poking around the Charger's underside.

"Ha, gotcha." Came her barely audible voice. "Jason, please get me my purse, willya?" she shouted.

"What do you need your purse for?" he asked, leaning back into the car.

"For my survival kit of course. We have several leaks which need to be treated. I don't fancy walking to the next motel."

"Here you go sweetie. What would I do without you?" Jason quipped as he handed down a bag the size of Iowa his partner always seemed to lug around.

"Waiting for the State Troopers to rescue your sorry ass, I guess." With a smile, she crawled back under the car. Jason could hear the tearing of duct tape. A few moments later, Janet reappeared, got up and patted dust off her behind. She caught Jason's admiring gaze and flicked him a brief grin.