Thriller Thursday 9 5

Chapter 1: The Setup

Brill arrived last.

The air was thick with tension, the kind that sticks to your skin and makes you sweat even before the Florida heat gets its claws into you.

Seminole County was still waking up, but Brill had been on the move since dawn.

The run had been good, his breathing steady, muscles warmed up and ready.

He crossed the street, but the light was against him, and a short line of cars held him up.

He didn’t like standing still for too long, not when there was work to be done.

The office was an unmarked building, tucked away in a quiet corner of downtown.

Brill jogged across the parking lot, spotting Carver’s truck parked in the usual spot.

He knew the man would already be inside, probably with a cup of coffee in hand, smiling that broad, toothy grin of his.

Brill pushed open the door and stepped into the cool air of the office.

The smell of old wood and fresh coffee hit him, familiar and comforting.

The humidity had left him sticky, and he grabbed a towel hanging on a chair by the door, wiping down his face, arms, and neck.

Carver always thought ahead, always made sure Brill had what he needed.

It was one of the reasons their partnership worked so well.

Carver was seated at the long table in the center of the room, papers spread out in front of him.

He glanced up as Brill entered, that wide grin spreading across his face.

“You’re looking fresh.”

Brill tossed the towel onto the back of a chair and settled into the seat opposite Carver.

It was habit, always facing the entrance, always knowing what was behind him.

Carver didn’t comment, just smiled wider.

“Morning, ,” Brill said, his voice low and steady.

He reached for the mug of coffee that Peg had left for him on the table.

She didn’t work for them, but she knew their routine well enough. The mug was thick, the kind that felt solid in your hand, and the coffee was hot and strong.

Brill took a sip, letting the warmth spread through him.

“What’s the job?”

Carver’s grin faded just a bit, replaced by something more serious. He pushed a manila folder across the table.

“This one’s different. High stakes.”

Brill flipped open the folder, scanning the contents quickly.

The first thing that caught his eye was the photo.

A woman, mid-thirties, sharp features softened by a hint of vulnerability in her eyes.

Sarah Keene.

Reporter.

He skimmed the details, picking up the highlights: investigative journalist, uncovered evidence that could topple a dictator, General Kazim.

“They want her dead,” Carver said, his tone flat. “Kazim’s deployed his best men to make sure she doesn’t make it out of the country alive.”

Brill kept his gaze on the file, taking in the details.

Kazim was a name he knew, a name that carried weight.

The man was ruthless, ruling his region with an iron fist, crushing anyone who dared to oppose him.

The world had more than a few dictators in it.

History was littered with them.

This man would go down in the top ten.

Millions dead.

Enemies hunted around the globe, killed by poison, by bullet or worse.

Brill had crossed paths with men like him before, and they all had one thing in common: they didn’t leave loose ends.

“Why us?” Brill asked, looking up at Carver.

“Senator Harris,” Carver replied, leaning back in his chair. “She’s got a personal stake in this. The reporter’s evidence implicates some high-profile people, and if the dictator gets to her first, the whole thing goes away. Harris wants to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Brill nodded, closing the folder.

He took another sip of coffee, considering.

“What’s the extraction plan?”

Carver’s grin returned, but it was smaller this time, more calculated.

“We get her out of the city, to a safe house up north. From there, we’ve got a plane waiting to take her across the border. Once she’s out of Kazim’s reach, she leaks the evidence. Simple.”

Brill’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching the edge in Carver’s voice. “It’s never that simple.”

“No,” Carver agreed, his grin fading again. “It’s not. There are assets everywhere. He’ll be hunting us from the moment we step out of that door.”

Brill set the mug down, his mind already working through the logistics.

“Weapons?”

“In the truck,” Carver said, nodding toward the parking lot. “AR-15, Glock 19, and a few surprises. Enough to get us through.”

rill’s jaw tightened slightly.

This was going to be messy, no doubt about it.

But he didn’t shy away from messy.

He thrived in it.

He took the file and stood up, folding the towel over his arm.

“Let’s get moving.”

Carver pushed back from the table and stood as well, grabbing his own towel from the back of the chair.

“Keene’s at a condo downtown. We’ll pick her up and head north.”

They stepped out into the Florida morning, the humidity wrapping around them like a damp blanket.

Brill didn’t mind the heat, didn’t mind the sweat.

It was just part of the job.

The drive was short, the streets still quiet as the city slowly came to life.

Brill kept his eyes on the road, his mind running through the plan. There were a hundred ways this could go wrong, a hundred variables they couldn’t control. But that was the game they played, the life they lived.

Carver pulled the truck into an alleyway behind a nondescript apartment building. Brill scanned the area, noting the exits, the potential cover. It was a good spot, easy to defend but easy to get trapped in, too.

They climbed out of the truck, Brill slinging the AR-15 over his shoulder. Carver led the way up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor. The door at the top was metal, heavy, with a single deadbolt. Carver knocked twice, a rhythm that was quickly answered from the other side.

The door opened a crack, and a pair of wary eyes peered out. Brill didn’t need to see the whole face to know it was Sarah Keene. She looked exactly like her photo: sharp, focused, but with that underlying tension that came from knowing your life was on the line.

“Brill Wingfield,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“That’s me,” Brill replied, stepping into the apartment. Carver followed, closing the door behind them.

The apartment was sparse, just the essentials. A small table, a couple of chairs, a bed in the corner. A duffel bag sat on the floor by the bed, half-packed.

“Is this all you’ve got?” Brill asked, nodding toward the bag.

Keene nodded, her eyes flicking between Brill and Carver. “I travel light.”

“Good,” Brill said. “We’re moving now. Kazim’s men will be here soon.”

Keene didn’t argue, just zipped up the bag and slung it over her shoulder. Brill appreciated that. No questions, no hesitation. She knew the stakes, knew what was at risk.

They moved quickly, Brill taking point, Carver covering the rear. The stairwell was quiet, but Brill’s instincts were on high alert. He could feel the danger closing in, the tension in the air like a live wire.

They made it to the truck without incident, but Brill’s gut told him it wouldn’t last. Carver got behind the wheel, Brill and Keene in the back. He kept his hand on the AR-15, scanning the streets as they pulled out of the alley.

They hadn’t gone more than a few blocks when Brill spotted the first tail. A black sedan, too sleek, too new for this part of town. It was keeping its distance, but Brill knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“Got company,” Brill said, his voice calm but firm.

Carver’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “How many?”

“Just one,” Brill replied, “but there’s more out there. You can count on it.”

Carver nodded, his hands tightening on the wheel. He took a sharp right, the tires squealing on the pavement. Brill kept his eyes on the sedan, waiting for the moment it would make its move.

The moment came quickly. The sedan sped up, closing the distance. Brill could see the driver now, a grim-faced man in dark sunglasses. He was focused, determined. This wasn’t his first chase, and it wouldn’t be his last — if he survived.

“Here we go,” Brill muttered, bracing himself as Carver floored the gas pedal.

The truck surged forward, weaving through traffic. The sedan followed, matching their every move. Brill’s mind was racing, calculating their options. They could try to outrun them, but that would only buy them time. Sooner or later, they’d have to make a stand.

“Take the next left,” Brill said, his voice steady.

Carver didn’t hesitate, yanking the wheel hard. The truck skidded around the corner, nearly clipping a parked car.

The sedan was right behind them, but Brill had expected that.

“Now right,” Brill ordered, his eyes scanning the streets.

Carver swung the truck around again, and this time Brill was ready.

As soon as they were clear of the turn, he rolled down the window, bringing the AR-15 up to his shoulder.

He didn’t fire immediately, waiting until the sedan was in just the right position.

Then, with a steady hand, he squeezed the trigger.

The rifle barked, the sound deafening in the confined space.

The first shot shattered the sedan’s windshield, the second punched through the front tire.

The car swerved, losing control.

Brill fired again, this time aiming for the engine.

The sedan shuddered, smoke billowing from under the hood.

“Keep moving,” Brill said, lowering the rifle.

Carver didn’t need to be told twice.

He gunned the engine, the truck speeding down the narrow streets.

Brill kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, watching as the sedan disappeared from sight, crippled but not out of the game.

“More will be coming,” Brill said, his voice grim.

Keene didn’t say anything, just gripped the strap of her duffel bag tighter.

Brill could see the fear in her eyes, but she was holding it together. He had to give her credit for that.

“Where to now?” Carver asked, his voice tight.

Brill didn’t answer immediately, his mind working through their options.

They couldn’t go to the safe house; it was too obvious.

Kazim’s men would be swarming all over it by now.

“Head for the docks,” Brill said finally. “We’ll lay low there until we can figure out our next move.”

Carver nodded, turning the truck in the direction of the waterfront. Brill leaned back in his seat, the tension coiled tight in his muscles.

This was just the beginning, and Brill knew it.

Kazim wouldn’t stop until Keene was dead, and that meant they couldn’t afford to stop either.

The chase was on, and there was no turning back.

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