Up ahead, the Lexus’s brake lights came on and I heard the sound of skidding tires. I stopped my car about thirty yards away, opened my door, and aimed my gun. To our right were dark woods. To our left were three houses. The Lexus came to a stop and didn’t move.
“Driver,” I yelled from behind my car door. “Turn off your engine.”
The rear lights were bright red. The driver didn’t turn off the car.
“Driver,” I yelled again, “turn off the car!”
The Lexus’s engine softly purred. Rule stepped out from the passenger side but stayed behind his door. He might have sensed what I was thinking. The Lexus had nowhere to go, but if the driver was desperate enough, he could try to reverse his way through us.
“Driver!” I yelled again.
The driver stepped off of the brake and the brightness of the red lights went back to their normal flare. The purring sound of the engine died, and the driver’s door slowly opened. My high beams were on, so I could see the driver’s head in front of his seat. I sensed that he was looking at me through his rearview mirror.
“Step out of the car with your hands raised,” I said.
The driver didn’t move right away. The barrel of my gun was trained on where the driver would get out of the vehicle.
Ten seconds went by.
Then twenty.
“Driver,” I called again. “Get out—”
The driver’s left arm moved and he pitched a circular object toward my car. When it hit the ground, a loud bang and a flash of light erupted causing both Rule and me to duck for cover. Next came the unnerving sound of shots being fired at the car.
“Stay down, stay down!” I yelled to Rule.
I stayed behind the door, but swung my arm around and blindly fired in the direction of the Lexus. Seconds went by without another sound of gunshots. Then I heard Rule’s footsteps running toward the woods.
I peeked around the door and didn’t see the driver, but caught the tail end of Rule pass by the Lexus’s front lights and dash into the woods.
“Dammit, Rule.”
I hopped to my feet, reached in my center console for a flashlight, and then followed Rule into the darkness of the woods.
Twenty-nine
Viktor Borovsky watched as the man in the mask killed two of his men in front of the detective’s house. He didn’t intervene on their behalf. If they were worth anything, they would have heard the man sneaking behind them and would have taken him out.
Then he watched as the detective and the son of Dennis Rule came out of the house to inspect the bodies. What caught him by surprise was the fact that the detective noticed his car. How, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that once he was noticed, he needed to get out of the neighborhood.
He made a U-turn and sped off. Seconds later, he saw a car chasing behind him. He cursed himself for not knowing the neighborhood. He didn’t know if the neighborhood was leading him out or sucking him in. Then he made a left, which turned out to be a dead end. He stopped the car and then looked in his rearview mirror, seeing the detective’s bright headlights behind him.
Then he heard the detective call for him to get out. He knew if he gave up he’d be dead within a couple of hours. The people he worked for had long arms for an organization outside of the U.S., and he wouldn’t make it through the night in a holding cell.
So what were his options? He always had options. In arm’s reach was a Sig Sauer handgun, and in the armrest were two flash bang grenades in case of emergencies like this. So he grabbed one.
The detective called for him to get out of the car again.
He looked in the rearview mirror again and, because of the brightness of the high beams, he couldn’t tell where the detective was. But he was familiar with police procedures. He knew that the detective would more than likely be standing behind his driver’s side door. Judging by the placement of the headlights, Viktor guessed the detective’s location. He slowly opened his door and, with his left hand, tossed the flash grenade toward the detective’s door. When the bang and flash went off, Viktor jumped out of the car and squeezed off a few shots toward the detective. He wasn’t necessarily aiming for a hit, rather, he wanted the detective to pause long enough that he’d have a chance to get a decent enough head start on foot.
So he ran after the shots.
Running wasn’t a problem for him. He was one of the strongest runners in Russia. He was also one of Russia’s best assassins. So, as he ran he wasn’t running to get away, he was running to set himself up for the kill.
Thirty
Rule took cover behind the car’s door when the flash bang went off and the subsequent shots were fired. He heard Jacob yelling at him to stay down and not to move. Once the flurry of shots went away, Rule heard the patter of running shoes enter the woods. If this were another situation, he would never have thought about interfering in a police investigation. But this person could possibly be tied to the murder of his family. He might have been the one who actually killed his father in cold blood. At that thought, there was no way he was going to sit by and let the possible killer get away.
So he hopped to his feet and started for the woods.
Once inside the clutter of trees, moving farther away from the headlights of the cars, Rule found it hard to see what was in front of him. He didn’t want to run blindly in just any direction, so he kept straight, hoping that the driver of the Lexus had continued straight as well.
He ran about five hundred feet and stopped. He turned around and saw the dim headlights of the Lexus. Something didn’t feel right. He tried to slow his breathing and regain control over his composure. He was letting his emotions cloud his judgment.
Where were they running to?
The driver carried flash bangs in his car. The average killer wouldn’t do that. So this wasn’t an average chase. Rule turned in a circle. He felt like eyes were staring at him. From where?
Just then, he saw a bouncing light enter the woods near the headlights. Jacob, he thought. He decided to stand still. He didn’t want Jacob confusing him for the driver. But as he stood still, he heard what sounded like a twig break, and then there was another bang. The light that had been bouncing near the headlights dropped to the ground.
Thirty-one
The bang came from Rule’s left. Reflexively, he ducked, but then his eyes immediately went to the light on the ground. Jacob. The light didn’t move, and Rule didn’t have time to find out if Jacob was alive or dead because a body crashed into his, causing the two to roll over on the ground. When they stopped rolling, Rule was on his stomach and a strong arm was wrapped around his neck, squeezing with great effort.
Rule tried grabbing at the body on top of him, but the way he was positioned made it nearly impossible. The arm squeezed harder, making Rule’s gasps for air more difficult. He clawed at the ground, hoping to find an object to use as a weapon, but nothing was in reach.
The arm squeezed harder, almost like it knew that Rule was out of defensive options. He tried to push himself up, but the man applied his body weight to keep Rule on the ground.
There was nothing he could do. Each time he squirmed, the arm squeezed around his neck tighter. He started feeling like he was about to lose consciousness. He was losing the strength to fight back. The already dark woods were becoming darker.
Rule tried one last time to buck the man off, but it didn’t work. His fingers dug into the ground hoping to grab anything, but that was worthless as well. Then, when he thought that all hope was lost, the arm slightly loosened its grip just enough to let Rule breathe a little better.
“You have one chance to save your life,” a voice with a Russian accent said. “Tell me where your father put the videotape, and I’ll let you live.”
Rule’s mind raced. What was he saying? Videotape?
“You have three seconds,” the voice said.
The first second ticked by, and the arm began squeezing harder again. Rule took in as much air as he could because he
didn’t know what the man was talking about.
Another second ticked by, and the arm squeezed even harder.
“Last chance,” the voice said.
Rule didn’t answer.
The arm squeezed against his neck like a vice grip. The few seconds he had to breathe gave him a second wind, and he tried to fight off the man from his back. But again, with each movement the arm squeezed harder.
Even as he couldn’t breathe, Rule thought about the question. What tape was he talking about? Was his family killed over a videotape? Rage suddenly engulfed him, and a strength that he’d never experienced overtook his body and he started bucking like a rodeo horse trying to get the man off his back. Rule let out a scream that sounded almost non-human. The arm loosened its grip a little as Rule bucked and bucked.
The man fought back, trying to wrap his legs around Rule’s legs to get him to stop bucking. Rule continued screaming at the top of his lungs and was finally able to flip himself over so that the man was on his back and Rule was on top. The man was still gripping him, but Rule was now at a different vantage point and used the little leverage that he had to swing his elbows into the man’s ribs. Blow after blow, the man’s grip slightly loosened until it completely came undone and Rule was able to spin away from the man’s hold.
He quickly stood to his feet, coughing and gasping for air. The man on the ground stood to his feet as well. Rule’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he saw clearly the face of the man who tried to kill him. The two stood facing each other in ready positions to fight. They were both breathing heavily. They both had their fists clenched.
Rule was ready to attack when he heard a twig break behind him and then a light flashed on them.
“Step back,” Jacob said to Rule. “I’ve got it from here.”
Thirty-two
A bullet struck me in the left shoulder when I entered the woods. The only other time I’d been shot, I was wearing a bulletproof vest that stopped two bullets from entering my chest. At the time, I thought that was one of the most painful things I’d ever gone through. That pain paled in comparison to the pain I felt when the bullet hit my shoulder. It felt like a flaming dart had entered my skin and scorched the flesh around it.
The pain immediately caused me to drop the flashlight, and the sudden surprise of being shot knocked me to the ground. My shoulder felt like it was on fire.
I lost my bearings for a minute, although I knew enough to stay down in case more bullets flew my way. I didn’t hear any more shooting, but thought I heard grunting sounds about forty yards ahead of me. Rule, I thought.
I tried to roll over, but the sheer movement from my shoulder nearly caused me to scream. I heard more grunting and was worried that Rule was in trouble. I rolled over to my good shoulder and was able to push myself to my knees. I still had my gun in my right hand. I looked to my left and saw the flashlight. I heard more grunting, but I wasn’t totally sure how far away they were. So I managed to walk on my knees to the flashlight, bypassing the pain, and picked it up. Seconds later I was on my feet, panting and sweating, but finally gathered my bearings.
Then I heard faster movement coming from the area where I heard the grunting and then a ghastly scream. I ran as fast as I could, but pain shot through my shoulder with every step. I don’t know how I was able to hold onto the flashlight, but I did it somehow.
Once I was close enough, I saw them. They were standing feet apart from one another. I managed to gather enough strength to raise the flashlight on them. Rule looked like a man possessed. The other guy looked confused. If I were standing across from Rule the way he looked, I’d be confused as well.
When the light hit them, they both looked at me.
“Step back,” I said to Rule. “I’ve got it from here.”
My gun was trained on the other guy.
“Hands behind your head,” I said.
The guy didn’t move.
“I won’t say it again.”
He must have seen the seriousness of my face because at that moment I was ready to shoot him. He relented from his fighting position and placed his hands on the back of his head.
I looked at Rule and turned slightly enough for him to know that I wanted him to grab the handcuffs from the holder on the back of my belt. He did, and seconds later the man had his hands cuffed behind his back.
I walked close to him and our faces were only inches apart.
“If you killed my friends, I’m going to lock you up for the rest of your life.”
The man didn’t say anything; what he did do hit me harder than any bullet.
He smiled.
Thirty-three
Pat was sitting at her desk at the station, reading over notes she’d taken from speaking with two former employees of Cardinal Rule, when the call came in that Jacob had been shot. She nearly dropped the phone, but then gathered herself when she learned it was only a flesh wound and that the bullet only grazed Jacob’s shoulder.
Ten minutes later, Jacob called her from the hospital to let her know that he was sore but fine. He told her that he was more in shock that he got shot than anything else.
“You should have called me, Jacob,” Pat said.
“There was no time. The whole thing happened so fast.”
He ran down the events leading up to the shooting, specifically the two dead men that were killed in front of his house.
“We need to get them identified. Something tells me that they’re not American. Run their prints through the FBI and Interpol and see if we get any hits,” Jacob said.
“What about the guy in custody?”
“I’ll be leaving here shortly and heading down to the holding cell. This has to be our guy.”
“I can meet you over there,” Pat said.
“No, I need you to get on those fingerprints. The more I know before I talk to him the better.”
“What about Rule?”
“He’s fine. He’s here with me. A little shaken up, but he’s good.”
There was a brief silence before Jacob spoke again. In a lowered voice he said, “He’s good, Pat. He’s not involved.”
Pat nodded as if Jacob could see her acceptance, but then spoke, “Okay. Just be careful. I’ll get that information to you as soon as I can.”
Pat hung up the phone, sat back in her chair, and exhaled a sigh of relief. Her nerves calmed even more after speaking with Jacob, but she still felt a little stiff and uptight. Some way or another, Jacob seemed to escape death, and she worried a day would come when he wouldn’t.
Her desk phone rang. She sat up in her chair and picked up the receiver.
“Detective Jennings.”
There was a slight pause and then a male voice spoke, “Ah, I thought that I’d get a voicemail, I’m sorry.”
“Well, you got the real thing. How can I help you?”
“This is a little embarrassing,” the voice said shyly.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Tell me how I can help you.”
“I, ah, we spoke earlier today at the grocery store … I feel like a fool now.”
Pat’s brain ran through the day and all of the people she’d spoken with and then realized that she was talking to the man she met at Whole Foods, the one who looked eerily like Brad Pitt.
“Tim, right?” she said.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I don’t remember giving you my number, Tim. Are you a stalker?”
Tim must have sensed the sarcasm in Pat’s voice because he laughed hesitantly. “No, I’m not a stalker, but I guess it could look like that now. I should just hang up.”
Pat thought about saying, okay, and hanging up, but something about the whole thing was a little flattering.
“Well, you obviously went through great lengths to find me, so I guess I can give you a few minutes of my time.”
Again the sarcasm.
“I’ve been out of the loop of the dating world for a while, so I’m not sure what the rules are anymore. I thoug
ht that you might be flattered if I left you a message.”
Pat tried not to smile, but she did. The guy was cute and charming, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“I guess it could be a little flattering.”
Tim chuckled, “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“So, Tim, if I remember correctly, we ended our last conversation with me saying that if I was free I might try and come to the show.”
“Your memory is correct. However, I was hoping that you’d be interested in having dinner with me tomorrow night.”
“You know I carry a gun, right?”
Tim chuckled, “I do, so I’d be crazy to try anything.”
Pat twiddled a pen between her fingers. What harm would it do to have dinner? Tim didn’t seem like a jerk, but none of them seemed like jerks in the beginning. One of the nicest men she’d ever known had turned out to be the biggest jerk of them all and had nearly broken her heart beyond repair.
Tim must have sensed her contemplation because he said, “I found a place on 15th Street that has some of the best crab cakes in the metro area.”
Her eyes lit up a little. If there were ever a way to draw her in, crab cakes was it.
“Okay,” she finally said. “You grabbed my attention.”
“Whew, you don’t know how hard my heart is beating right now,” Tim said.
“Probably about as hard as my mouth is watering at the mention of crab cakes.”
They both laughed.
“Good, good. So we’ll eat some crab cakes and have a drink,” Tim said.
Pat smiled again. She felt like a high school girl about to go on her first date.
“Thanks for not hanging up on me.”
“You don’t know how close you came to hearing a dial tone,” she said.
They said their goodbyes and agreed to meet around eight.
Pat hung up the phone, a little giddy, and went back to work with a smile on her face.
The Game of Life or Death: A Detective Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers (The Jacob Hayden Series Book 3) Page 7