Welcome to my online cyber thriller, The Phisherman. This is the chapter where it starts going crazy, so hang on. If you haven't been reading along, you should probabaly learn more about the story first by clicking HERE. If you'd prefer to start at Chapter 1, click HERE. To select another chapter, click HERE.
Nick awoke unexpectedly to his phone playing Lucy’s favorite song at the time. No one else was permitted through his ‘Do not disturb’ filter. However, since their reconnection in DC, Lucy had been given twenty-four-hour access to call Nick anytime she needed her big brother’s shoulder.
Struggling to focus, Nick reached for his phone as the catchy refrain blasted through the tiny but powerful speaker.
After three franticly frustrated grabs, his hand secured the device.
Holding it in front of his face, Nick forced his eyes to concentrate. Though the image was blurry, he recognised that unforgettable face. It was Lucy calling at stupid o’clock.
Something’s wrong.
He desperately stabbed at the green button, thankful he succeeded in answering the call before it diverted to voicemail.
‘Yo, Looseee, wasamatta?’
Nick pushed the phone away from his ear as Lucy screamed garbled words into the phone.
He struggled to his feet and staggered to the only comfortable chair in the room. After relaxing into its soft cushioning, he forced himself to take a deep breath and hold it as he counted to ten while focusing on relaxing his facial muscles like he’d been taught. Then, he slowly exhaled, forcing his mind to ignore his immediate physical condition.
Feeling some level of balance restored to his being, he sucked in another deep breath as he listened to Lucy’s desperate screams. Her words were still jumbled as they tumbled out of her mouth from a thousand miles away.
‘Lucy Mary Davies,’ he yelled in the same tone his dad did whenever Lucy or Nick were in trouble as kids.
He sighed with relief when it worked. She finally stopped. Whether it was from shock at his voice or emotional exhaustion, he didn’t know.
Nor did it matter.
‘I need you to stop and take a deep breath, Luce. And when you’ve calmed down, I want you to tell me what’s going on.’
There was a long pause as Lucy inhaled a noisy breath. Nick knew it was loud enough to let him know she was doing what he’d asked.
His thoughts were interrupted when loud banging sounded through the phone, accompanied by angry shouts.
As Lucy screamed with fear, Nick yelled into the phone, desperate to attract her attention.
‘Lucy, what’s going on? Talk to me, Luce. Lucy!’
The cacophony of noises continued as Lucy told him in a quivering voice filled with dread, ‘Nicky, it’s the FBI. They’re banging on the door, yelling that I must let them in. What do I do?’
Before Nick could respond, she started sobbing uncontrollably over the phone. Nick knew she’d be traumatised after the busts she’d experienced during her drugged-out teens and early twenties.
Suddenly, a loud crash sounded. Nick could only assume it was the front door of his house being smashed down.
A series of shouts followed as Lucy wailed, ‘Nicky! Nicky! Where are you?’
Nick yelled into the phone, ‘Luce, what’s going on? Talk to me, Luce.’
And then the phone went silent.
‘What the hell,’ Nick yelled at the handset as he immediately called back, desperate to know what was occurring, willing Lucy to pick up.
What has Lucy got herself into?
He was sure he could sort things out quickly – he had many contacts in the FBI. All it required was having ‘a little chat’ with whoever was in charge of the raid on his Georgetown house.
Before the call started ringing at Lucy’s end, Nick realised several people were milling around outside the front of his hotel room. Although there was no noise, he could see stealthy movements through the crack under the door.
What the hell?
A loud, deep thump echoed through the room as a heavy, rigid object crashed into the solid wooden door. Nick knew the noise was supposed to disorient him as he awoke.
Of course, they hadn’t planned for me being alert and ready for action.
The battering ram only took three attempts to send the heavy door flying off its hinges and to the floor.
Within a second, there was a rush of boots, accompanied by numerous voices yelling directions to Nick in the name of the Australian Federal Police.
They would have realized they’d been too slow by the time they reached the rumpled bed.
Moments earlier, while the aggressors prepared to attack, Nick had placed his phone into his pants and slipped on a pair of shoes.
When the initial crash resounded through the small room, he was already standing on the small external balcony, evaluating if the narrow ledge between his floor and the one below was wide enough as a gentle breeze blew against his bare muscular chest.
He dropped noiselessly to the concrete shelf and stood as the door into his room broke under the barrage of heavy blows.
Nick edged toward the corner of the building with cautious haste, hoping he’d round it before anyone saw him from above.
He was less than three feet from the corner when a shrill voice yelled, ‘There he is,’ followed by, ‘Nicholas Davies, stop.’
That merely made Nick go faster.
Navigating his way around the corner, he was rapt to see an emergency stairwell descending to the street below. Thankfully, no one was waiting at the bottom for the unlikely scenario Nick got that far.
Thank you, Venga, though I guess this is what you tried to warn me about.
Nick made his way to the fire exit as rapidly as possible, then raced down the nine levels. Nobody saw him from above until there were only two flights to go.
By then, no one was stopping him.
I must get away from these dumb uniforms. I don’t have time to sort out some baseless charges designed to tie me up for the next few days. Once I’ve escaped, I’ll get Venga to pick me up. Then I’ll find out from Ali how to get my hands on my SOB hacker.
Nick stood in the middle of the road to halt a new BMW X5 as it gently rounded the corner. Rushing to the driver’s door, he pulled it open.
He screamed over the loud sound of a funky song playing on the radio, ‘You need to get out – I’m taking your vehicle.’
When the motorist started complaining, Nick yelled, ‘GET OUT NOW!’
He reached across and unbuckled the seat belt, roughly pulling the older person out of the car to tumble onto the road.
As speedily as he could, Nick climbed into the driver’s seat, closed the door, and took off with the scream of racing pistons, not giving the hijacked driver a second glance.
The brakes were unexpectedly activated. As the car squealed to a stop, the engine turned itself off.
Desperately, Nick put his foot on the brake and pressed the start button, but to no avail. Nothing happened. No matter how often Nick pushed the control, the car would not start.
He was wondering what to do when the doors locked.
He tried to open the door.
It wouldn’t budge.
Nor could he unlock it.
He reached across and tried the passenger door with the same result.
Desperately he searched for the master lock control.
Finding it on the driver’s door, he pushed the button.
However, as soon as the doors unlocked, they locked again.
That was when Nick started freaking out. It was like someone else was controlling the vehicle, preventing his escape.
Well, stop this, you mother.
Smashing the driver’s window with his elbow, Nick cleared enough glass to climb out without severing an artery as a woman screamed, ‘Help! Police!’ in the background.
Ignoring the blood that flowed from several fresh cuts on his arm, Nick carefully worked his torso through the broken glass and dropped to the asphalt.
He stood to his feet as a troop of AFP1 agents stormed around the corner with guns drawn.
The scene was unbelievable. They were treating Nick as a dangerous felon.
Well, if you want danger, that’s what you’ll get.
Fortuitously, a teenage boy in ragged jeans and a black tee raced past on an electric scooter.
Quick as a flash, Nick ran after him.
The dark-haired youth glanced behind when he heard Nick’s loud footsteps. He gave Nick the finger and laughed, then accelerated, assured he’d escape the old man chasing him.
However, like the AFP entering Nick’s hotel room, the boy was too slow.
As the scooter sped up, Nick dived, reaching for a tag that dangled out from the kid’s bulky backpack.
Thankfully for Nick, the tag was firmly attached to the dark bag wrapped tightly around the lad’s shoulders.
Of course, the youth wasn’t happy as his body suddenly jerked backwards to land ungraciously on the hard pavement.
Before the ex-rider knew what had happened, Nick had grabbed the scooter from where it lay on the ground and sped away, ignoring the vain cries, ‘Stop or we’ll shoot.’
Nick heard the loud crack of a police revolver firing as he reached the closest corner. He ducked, though the retort from the bullet’s impact into a nearby building told him it had missed by several feet.
By the time several more guns had shot at him, he’d rounded the bend and was off into the darkness.
Best of luck catching me now, dumbasses.
Thanks for reading my online serial. I hope you enjoyed this chapter enough to click the heart-shaped LIKE button below. And if you have any suggestions to help make it better or you simply want to encourage me as a storyteller (either would be appreciated), please leave a comment.AFP = Australian Federal Police