“Ernesto’s about to run,” Jack said urgently as he watched the movement in Room 307.
“How long until Intelligence gets here?”
“Jack, Hank told us to wait for backup,” Catherine replied, just as tense but still controlled.
“Don’t rush this.
He won’t get far.”
“Diego could be in that room.
Even if he isn’t, Ernesto knows where he is.
If he disappears, we might lose our best chance of finding Diego.” Jack had already pushed open the convenience store door and started toward the black Dodge Caravan.
“Damn it, Jack.” Catherine gritted her teeth and followed him, hooking her arm through his again to maintain their cover.
“I’m coming with you, but we do this carefully.
Ernesto is definitely armed, and he might not be alone.”
“I know.
First, let’s make sure he can’t disappear completely.”
Catherine watched the hotel while Jack crouched as though tying his shoelace beside the Dodge.
Using the movement as cover, he quickly attached a tracker beneath the vehicle before standing again.
Catherine noticed and gave him a subtle thumbs-up.
They crossed the street and used the exterior stairs to reach the third floor.
The hallway smelled of mildew and cheap detergent, with Room 307 sitting at the far end.
Jack pressed himself beside the door while Catherine covered the opposite side, both listening carefully.
Something fell inside, followed by angry Spanish.
Jack couldn’t understand the words, but seconds later he heard quick footsteps moving away from the door.
“He’s going for the window,” Catherine warned.
Jack stepped back and drove his boot into the lock.
The cheap wooden door burst inward.
The room was empty.
The window stood wide open, curtains whipping in the breeze.
Jack rushed over and saw Ernesto climbing down the fire escape with a backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Chicago Police!
Stop!”
Ernesto looked up, sneered, and continued climbing.
Jack didn’t hesitate.
He climbed through the window, grabbed the rusted ladder, and followed him down while Catherine transmitted over the radio.
“Suspect fleeing through the rear alley.
Jack and I are in pursuit.”
The fire escape groaned beneath Jack’s weight.
Ernesto reached the ground first and sprinted toward the alley exit, while Jack dropped the final several feet, rolled on impact, and immediately continued chasing.
“Ernesto!
Stop!”
The suspect suddenly turned around.
A handgun appeared in his hand.
He fired several shots.
Jack dove behind a pile of garbage and broken crates as rounds struck the brick wall behind him.
One bullet grazed his shoulder, burning across the skin before disappearing into the masonry.
Gunfire echoed through the alley.
Ernesto’s weapon clicked empty.
As he started reloading, Jack rose from cover and fired.
The round struck Ernesto in the shoulder.
Blood sprayed across his jacket and the handgun flew from his hand as he crashed against a dumpster, but instead of falling, he forced himself upright and kept running.
“He’s hit!” Jack shouted.
Catherine appeared near the other end of the alley, trying to cut him off.
Ernesto knew the neighborhood better.
He kicked open a narrow gate and slipped through a gap between two buildings before either officer could reach him.
By the time Jack and Catherine made it back toward the street, the black Dodge Caravan was already gone.
Only several drops of blood remained where Ernesto had passed.
Sirens approached moments later.
Hank Voight and the rest of Intelligence arrived quickly.
Hank’s eyes immediately went to the blood on Jack’s shoulder.
“Where is he?”
“He got away, but Jack hit him,” Catherine reported.
“We put a tracker on the van.
Ernesto suddenly started packing and moving, and we were worried Diego might be inside or that he was about to disappear.”
Hank immediately ordered units to establish a perimeter and begin tracking the vehicle.
Antonio rushed upstairs.
Seconds later, his voice carried down the hallway.
“Diego’s not here!”
The search of Room 307 found Diego’s backpack and several snack wrappers, but no hostage.
Omar Rojas was also missing.
“They split up,” Jack said while examining the room.
“Diego was here at some point.
Omar probably moved him somewhere else, and Ernesto stayed behind as a contact.
Somebody called him just before he started packing.”
Hank’s phone rang.
Everyone fell silent.
He answered, listened for several seconds, and his expression turned darker.
“Omar.”
Antonio immediately looked toward him.
“He knows we hit the hotel,” Hank continued.
“He says if we try tracking them again, the next thing he sends us will be one of Diego’s fingers.
Exchange has been moved up to eleven.
New location is a parking lot near Grant Park.”
Hank looked directly at Antonio.
“He also said you’re supposed to come alone, and he knows exactly what shirt you’re wearing.”
The implication settled over the room.
Someone was watching them.
Or somebody was feeding information to the kidnappers.
Jack frowned.
“Sergeant, even if Omar only stayed on the phone for thirty seconds, Tech might still be able to narrow down where the call came from through cell towers.”
Hank looked at him.
“You know that how?”
“Technical manuals at the academy.”
Hank gave him a brief stare before immediately calling the tech team.
Five minutes later, they had an answer.
“The call came from somewhere near the South Side central bus terminal,” Hank said.
Erin frowned.
“Is Omar trying to take Diego out of Chicago?”
“Could be,” Jay replied.
“Or he wants us looking at the station while he goes somewhere else.”
“We still check it.” Hank turned toward the team.
“Antonio, follow the new instructions and go to Grant Park.
No obvious ground support.
We’ll keep aerial surveillance on you.”
He looked toward Erin and Jay.
“You two follow the tracker and bring patrol officers with you.
Find Ernesto.”
Then his eyes shifted to the others.
“Jack, Catherine, take the south entrance of the bus station.
Al, you’re with me on the north side.
Everyone stays plainclothes and low-profile.”
They moved immediately.
By 10:20 a.m., the bus terminal was crowded with travelers.
Long-distance coaches moved between the platforms while passengers carried luggage through the terminal.
Jack wore jeans and a hoodie, making him look like an ordinary college student.
Catherine wore business clothes, sunglasses, and carried a coffee cup while quietly scanning the crowd.
Hank’s voice came through their hidden earpieces.
“Spread out.
If you see Diego or Omar, report first.
Do not move unless you have to.”
Jack walked slowly through the terminal, studying faces and behavior without making it obvious.
Catherine followed farther behind, close enough to support him if anything went wrong.
At Platform 7, a bus bound for St.
Louis was boarding.
Jack immediately noticed a tall Latino man wearing a blue baseball cap pulled low over his face.
One hand tightly gripped the arm of a teenage boy standing beside him.
The boy kept his head lowered.
Then Jack saw the sneakers.
During the earlier briefing, Antonio had described Diego’s limited-edition shoes, including a small tear on the left one.
“Target spotted,” Jack said quietly.
“Platform 7.
St.
Louis bus.
Omar is wearing a blue cap and black jacket.
Diego is beside him.
No visible injuries, but he looks terrified.”
“Confirm Diego,” Hank replied.
“Confirmed.
Shoes match.”
“We’re moving toward you.
Maintain distance.”
Before Hank could reach them, Omar suddenly glanced around and pulled Diego onto the bus.
The engine started.
“Omar just boarded,” Jack reported.
“Bus is moving.”
“Get on,” Hank ordered.
“Use your judgment.
We’ll follow.”
“Copy.”
Jack and Catherine boarded separately.
Catherine took a seat directly behind Omar while Jack sat across the aisle.
Diego sat beside Omar.
The bus pulled away from the terminal and entered traffic.
Catherine quietly reported through her earpiece, “I’m behind the target.
Diego is beside him.
Jack is across the aisle.”
“Copy,” Hank replied.
“We have vehicles following.
Stay undercover until we have a safe place to stop the bus.”
Omar looked increasingly nervous.
He kept checking his phone and looking through the windows.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed instantly.
Omar stood and drew a handgun.
“Nobody move!” he shouted.
“Driver, take the next exit!”
Passengers screamed.
Omar dragged Diego in front of him and pressed the muzzle against the boy’s temple.
Jack remained seated for half a second, studying the angle.
“He knows,” Jack whispered through his mic.
“Someone warned him.”
Waiting was no longer an option.
Jack slowly stood with his hands raised.
“Hey, take it easy.
What do you want?”
Omar snapped his attention toward him.
“You.
You’re a cop.
I knew it.
Stay back!”
“I’m not a cop,” Jack replied, deliberately keeping his voice nervous and calm at the same time.
“I’m just trying not to get killed.
Tell us what you want.”
“Don’t come closer!”
Omar raised the gun and fired into the ceiling.
The gunshot sent passengers ducking and screaming.
Jack caught Catherine’s eyes.
That was the opening.
Catherine rose from behind Omar and grabbed his gun arm, jamming his weapon upward and preventing him from bringing it back toward Diego.
At almost the same moment, Jack drew his pistol.
Bang!
Omar’s body went limp.
Jack’s round struck him in the head, and he collapsed into the aisle.
A system notification immediately appeared in Jack’s mind.
[Criminal neutralized.
Obtained one Black Iron Treasure Chest.]
Jack ignored it.
Catherine secured Omar’s handgun and moved Diego away from the body while trying to calm the terrified passengers.
“Omar is down.
Diego is safe.”
Jack immediately checked Diego for injuries.
The bus braked hard moments later.
The doors opened.
Antonio rushed inside and went straight toward his son.
“Diego!”
He wrapped both arms around the boy, his face breaking as tears ran down his cheeks.
Diego clung to him just as tightly.
Hank climbed aboard behind Antonio and walked toward Jack.
He placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“Good work.”
Jack nodded.
“Just doing my job, Sergeant.”
Antonio finally looked up from his son.
“Jack…
Catherine.” His voice was thick with emotion.
“Thank you.
You brought my son back.”
[Reader Event Active]