by Saul, Jonas
Chapter 20
Someone was knocking on the door and yelling something in the hallway. Sarah woke and rolled off the side of the bed. The alarm clock beside her read 4:18am.
Who the hell is making all that noise at such a ridiculous hour?
They had eaten in the hotel restaurant and retired early to bed. Parkman had asked if Vivian had said anything lately and Sarah had replied in the negative. He didn’t ask how she was planning to die. Partly because he didn’t want to know, Sarah assumed and partly because if she did in fact die, how would he tell her parents? He knew them. He was in Europe because of them. Parkman felt it was his personal duty to stay close to Sarah. To protect her.
The knocker rapped again.
“Coming.”
Sarah got to the door and leaned against the wall beside it.
“What do you want?”
“We think we’ve located Armond. We have a lead.”
It was Rosalie.
“We need you to come with us,” she shouted.
“Okay. How much time do I have?”
“Will five minutes be enough?” Rosalie asked.
“Yeah,” Sarah said and stepped away to get ready.
In four minutes she opened her hotel room door and moved into the hallway.
One of Rosalie’s men sat a few doors down on a chair. He got up and gestured with his hand. Sarah followed. They made it to the lobby and out into a waiting SUV. The wind had picked up, blowing Sarah’s hair into her face. She brushed it clear and reminisced on a day when she didn’t have as much hair. A day when she used to pull it out. In her rush to leave she hadn’t put it up and out of the way.
She sat in the back across from Rosalie as the vehicle got underway.
One thing above all that was getting under Sarah’s collar was that she was unarmed. Since the Montone event they had taken her weapons like they couldn’t trust her. She was the one they wanted here. She was an expert at taking care of herself. That had been proven and Rosalie knew enough about her to know that. Maybe they were worried she was uncontrollable? Perhaps it was more to do with escape and their ability to limit her chances by removing any advantage she’d have?
She looked around. “Where’s Parkman?”
“He’s not joining us on this one,” Rosalie said.
“Why’s that?”
“Only one of you is needed to make an ID. Actually I think he’s heading home to America today.”
He hadn’t said anything last night at dinner. “Does Parkman know this?”
“No. But as I said, only one of you is needed for Armond and Rod isn’t interested in Parkman.”
“Is there really a lead we’re following up here or is this just a way to separate us?”
“There’s a lead.”
“Then tell me about it,” Sarah said as she leaned against the door while the SUV turned a sharp corner. The driver wasn’t wasting any time. Wherever they were headed they were in a hurry.
“A strip joint, the Palace Night Club, had a complaint called into the Rendorshag, Hungarian Police. A couple girls showed up without the proper documentation. Other, legal girls, got pissed off about it because the ones who showed up are obviously too young to be working there. The report called in said that these younger ones were busy all night, taking away foreigner’s cash from the Hungarian girls who should be making a living as they’ve done it legally.”
“Management called this in? Doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?” Rosalie asked.
“If Armond has anything to do with this then it’s happening because management is getting a kickback. They’re bought. That’s how it works with him.”
“I see what you mean. For the record it was an anonymous call but we do suspect it was other dancers who called it in. The police are holding the youngsters until we get there.”
The SUV crossed over one of the large bridges that spanned the Danube River. Sarah looked out at the lights of Budapest at night. The sun would be rising soon and she was en route to a strip club. What had her life come to? And where was Vivian in all this? Why had there been no message lately?
“Okay, here’s the drill. We will handle the questioning. We will deal with the girls and get them home safely or wherever it is they end up after tonight. During the taking of their statement, we’ll attempt to get a location from them. Apparently their boss was there ten minutes before the Rendorshag showed up. This is the closest we’ve been to Armond in a long time. We think they’ll furnish us with a good description too.”
Sarah nodded. She had to accept this. They would be in charge. This was their gig and she was just along for the ride. She was an observer. After all she’d gone through, she was an observer as others sought Armond. Fucking great.
“Are we clear?” Rosalie asked, evidently worried Sarah would get too involved.
Then why did they bring me?
“How do you know this is tied to Armond? Sounds a little small time even for him.”
“We know. He did this years ago to get fast cash when we were on his tail then. After a couple weeks he fled with his pockets full and another new identity in the States. Now,” Rosalie leaned forward as the vehicle slowed. “I need to know you’ll follow directions. This is our gig. You’re along in case we get a visual. Clear?”
“Clear. But I’m not waiting in the SUV. And when this is over you buy the coffee.”
Rosalie nodded.
The SUV pulled up to a building. Sarah looked out the window and saw a large drop off. Down below she could see a train station of some kind with many tracks leading in and out of the station.
As everyone filed out Sarah waited and then edged out herself. She left the door open and leaned on it as she took in her surroundings. This was a part of Budapest she hadn’t gotten to in her month’s stay. It seemed older, more decrepit.
In the distant sky the light blue indicated the rising sun was coming along.
She looked around to the front of the strip club and saw three little police cars. Rosalie’s SUV was the only other vehicle.
Where did management park? Was anyone else there other than the young girls?
Something didn’t make sense.
A loud metallic bang startled her. She looked toward the trains but didn’t see any movement this early. A couple people were walking around down there but no trains were moving.
A flash of light caught her eye. As she made to turn the metallic bang came again but this time it was closer.
Much closer.
Sarah whipped her head to the front of the SUV. A small hole had formed in the hood.
A bullet hole.
She ducked behind the open back door.
Who the fuck is shooting at me? Was this a setup?
Thoughts raced through her mind. The flash of light she’d seen was a weapon discharging. She looked left. Movement in the second floor window of a brick building across the street told her where she’d seen the flash. Whoever had shot at her was packing up. They were moving fast.
The angle from that window to the hood’s bullet hole was a perfect line.
Whoever the shooter was he wasn’t very good. You missed asshole and now you’re going to pay for it.
Sarah jumped to her feet and bolted for cover across the street. With her pulse rate jumping and her back against the brick wall she ran along the building working her way to the entrance of the shooter’s building.
No way would he come out the front door. Unless he thinks I’ll think that and do it anyway.
She charged for the back. A small fence meant to keep people out had a hole in it just large enough for a six year old to walk through. Sarah dropped to her hands and knees and crawled through, standing up on the other side.
The sun had gained more ground illuminating the area enough that she didn’t need any light.
Why hadn’t Vivian said anything about this? What about a friendly warning? Fucking sucks that I’ve got this talent but it doesn’t come when most needed.
Unless she knew he’d miss and telling me would only cause me to be too cautious? Something to think about later.
She reached for her belt line. No gun.
Shit.
What now? How could she stop a gunman unarmed?
Shit, fuck!
She heard someone coming.
The shadows covered her as she stepped back and crouched behind a garbage bin. The smell almost made her gag but she held a hand over her mouth and waited.
What an idiot, she thought. The guy could’ve walked out the front door.
He wore a black jacket and black pants. He had a long black bag slung over his shoulder. Sarah watched as he stepped out slowly and edged along to the corner of the building. He peeked toward the front. Satisfied that he saw no one, he turned toward Sarah and walked to the back fence where he jumped over it not six feet from her.
He hadn’t been close enough for her to attack without a weapon so she had to follow. In the semi-dark he could have a handgun readily available. Something Sarah wasn’t going to risk.
She stood and watched him run around the corner of another brick building. She hopped the fence in the same spot he did and gave chase.
At the corner she looked around with care. He was hustling up the street through a construction area toward a black vehicle that appeared to be a Cadillac.
Sarah ran, keeping to the shadows as best she could. The Cadillac was still about fifty yards away from him. She was gaining fast, her running shoes giving no sound off the cement they pounded.
She felt in her element. This was what she was good at. Decisions made in the deepest moment of stress. Decisions that meant she could be hurt or killed. She relied on her quick mind and skill. Reveled in it. She held a certain confidence that the outcome would benefit her.
Or am I too self-assured, too confident?
Now was decision time. Get a plate number and let the guy drive off or attack and make sure he couldn’t walk away?
In the second she thought the question, she answered it.
Ridiculous. Like I’m going to get shot at and let the guy just drive away. Fuck that.
The shooter reached the Caddy and fumbled with his keys.
Sarah picked up her step as she heard the chirp of the car’s alarm deactivating.
She was close now.
An orange and white construction bar that suspended a makeshift yield sign leaned against a hydro pole.
In one quick motion Sarah lunged for it, grabbed the pipe and swung her body in a circle with the metal pipe coming with her on a wide arc aiming at the vehicle. The shooter was just turning the Cadillac on and dropping the car into drive when the pole hit his windshield.
The glass didn’t break inward but it shattered into tiny pieces that stayed stuck together.
Sarah lifted the bar and spun around to smash the driver’s side window.
She felt near hysteria now as at any moment the gunman could pull a handgun and shoot her in the belly. The only defense was to keep him jumping back from the onslaught of the bar.
On her next windup the shooter managed to get the vehicle moving.
She swung hard, with everything she had, knowing that it may be her last hit. The pipe hit the driver’s side window again.
This time it entered the window.
The car shot forward, pulling the pipe from her grasp. The Cadillac rolled ahead and then jumped the curb. Five feet or so along it bumped into a light standard and stopped.
Sarah ran for the car door. She grabbed the handle and yanked hard.
It opened, spilling the driver onto the sidewalk. He moaned and reached for a cut on his cheek that was bleeding.
She must’ve have made solid contact with his face. When she stepped around him, her hands ready to punch, her feet to kick, she saw his face had a small dent in it below his left eye.
Did I break his cheek? Or as my mother used to say, did I break his face?
She saw his good eye looking up at her. It was wide and scared.
She looked around. The street was empty.
In a quick motion Sarah dropped to one knee and started to search his waistband for a weapon with one hand held to his throat. In seconds she came upon a small pistol in his jacket pocket. After ripping it out, she checked if it was loaded and flipped the safety off.
She turned to address him. His right eye seemed wider. How afraid of her was he? By appearance only, she was just a small girl. Nothing to be feared by a medium built male. Unless he’d been told who she was.
“You’re not going to tell me who hired you? I mean that’s what I’m assuming here.”
He didn’t respond.
Her newfound weapon was held in her right hand. The safety was off and she knew he knew that. A gentle movement brought the gun to his mid-section. She eased it into his stomach and pressed the barrel hard, hoping when she used the gun most of his clothing would muffle the shot as a pillow would.
“Gut shot by a carjacker. You’ll probably live but a hole in the stomach can mess you up for the rest of your life. I’m talking hard alcohol and spicy food. That’ll fuck you up for a long time. And eating with a broken face could be challenging too. But what do I care?”
She leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Three, two…”
“Wait,” she heard him mumble. She could tell he spoke without moving his lips. “I was told,” he started but the pain wracked him. He moaned louder and tried to curl into a ball. Sarah held him back.
She leaned up and stared into his face. “Tell you what. You get an ambulance and no more damage to your person as soon as I know who sent you and I’m satisfied with the answer. Each lie gets a bullet for your efforts. Oh, and I know you know who I am, meaning you know I’m not fucking around. Now, talk or die. Your choice, asscock.”
“I was told…you might shoo uh. I was told to make sure you don’t wah away.”
“By who? Who told you? Remember, this answer is important. Your stomach is depending on you.”
He stared a hole through her. “He say you would know him. He say his name was Jack Tate.”
Jack Tate, also known as Armond Stuart.
“Okay, you’ve done well and you’ve saved your stomach.”
She leaned back and sat on the sidewalk beside him. Then after a moment she lifted the gun and shot the man in the right foot, dead center. The report was loud with no suppressor on the quiet street but the man was louder. He screamed which caused his cheek to flare up. She watched as he turned and passed out on the concrete beside her.
“That was for shooting at me. You coulda killed me. Now you will limp for a long time to remember what you did today.”
She grabbed his belt and undid it, keeping an eye on her surroundings. Not a single car had passed them in the few minutes they’d been there. Maybe people skirted this street due to the construction.
Or maybe Armond is here and he’s keeping traffic away. Come on Sarah, he’s not a God.
After a moment she had the belt wrapped around his leg as a tourniquet. She saw the bleeding in his foot was slowing.
I sure like to wound people in the leg or foot. That’s getting to be my signature. I only kill to save my life. Anyone else who deals with me has trouble walking afterwards.
Sarah stood slowly, taking the entire area in. The first sign of life was an old man with a cane. He seemed to be looking in a store window.
Odd time to be window shopping.
A moment later he began walking slowly in the other direction. He didn’t seem to have noticed the Caddy sitting at an odd angle on the sidewalk. Nor did it appear that he heard the gun and resulting shout.
The sun had gotten higher making shadows stretch. The wind of earlier had died down.
Run or stay?
Jump in the Caddy and pick up Parkman before they even know she’s gone or stay and attempt a break later? Staying meant she may walk into more traps set by Armond. Staying also meant she would have to deal with Rod Howley. Leaving meant less assurance she wo
uld see Armond go down and she’d still have to deal with Rod. At least with staying she’d have witnesses when she faked her death. People who would report to Rod. People who were professionals that he’d believe.
She decided to stay, as Armond was her priority above everything else.
She sat back down and kept the pistol handy. She’d wait for them to come looking for her. No way was she letting the shooter out of her sight.