Murray Hill || A Superhuman Tale - 1

Chapter Forty-Five

The third coffee did the trick, and Camille was wide awake. But now she had to pee. The thought of leaving the comfort of Sam's borrowed SUV to squat in a bush didn't appeal to her. Nor did she relish leaving her current vantage point to seek an all-night restaurant to relieve herself. So she hunkered down for the time.

The mid-range chain motel that she watched was situated off Interstate 94, just past Minneapolis. It was about 2:30 in the morning, and the three idiots inside, sleeping the sleep of the unjust, had been ahead of her all day.

This wasn't their first stop.

***

After leaving Bronzeville, the first place the two SUVs had made for was a small office complex near O'Hare Airport. At first, she'd hoped it might be the location where they'd taken Sam. However, it soon become apparent that the small storefront wasn't large enough to conceal any type of holding cell.

The three knuckleheads in the first SUV, Coopersmith, the technician, and the other man, stayed at that location less than an hour before departing without the men from the second vehicle.

Her big fear was that the three might next head for O'Hare, in order to take a commercial flight out of town. Philly could trace Sam's phone anywhere in the U.S. or Canada, but if the men attempted to take the go-bag as a carry-on, there was the chance Sam's phone might be discovered.

The unlikeliness of such an outcome very soon became apparent. Coopersmith and the second man were still armed as they'd departed the storefront. The fool's credentials and cocky attitude barely had gotten him past the Chicago PD, and then only after his bosses had made some calls—or so Camille surmised. It was unlikely that the crew could bully their way onto a commercial flight while carrying firearms. She'd never been so certain of anything in her life. These thugs were not government agents of any kind.

Both estimations were confirmed in short order. The three men, now in a newer green sedan, got on I-294, heading north. At about the same time, Camille received a short text from Mueller. The license plates for the two tan SUVs showed that the automobiles weren't government vehicles or local rentals. They were registered to a Delaware corporation of which Camille had never heard. She passed that news to Philly for her to run down, along with photos of the office front and the new sedan.

But by that time, there still was no word from Tommy.

The idea that two of her new friends had been abducted left Camille with a chill, but she refused to relent and continued to follow the three fake agents north, relying for the rest of the day on the GPS on Sam's phone and Philly as a near constant voice in her ear giving her directions. Camille took great comfort in the voice of a woman she'd not yet met, and she strongly suspected Philly felt the same.

She'd been on the road for two hours before Philly gave a short hoot and told her she finally had gotten in touch with Tommy. The message she relayed was simple, "I'm coming."

That Camille's other companion had not likewise disappeared filled the police officer with an indescribable sense of relief. That piece of good news made the rest of the day's drive far more bearable.

Not that it was difficult work. Camille's prey only stopped twice more before reaching the motel, once for dinner at a mid-scale chain restaurant, and a second time at a nearby strip club.

Great, she thought.

She wanted nothing more than to get close and to have a look at them and see what they were up to, but she kept her distance. All three men had gotten a good look at her in front of Sam's, and Camille was a tall, lanky gazelle who people seldom forgot.