Jacob tilted his head back as if he’d just heard the funniest thing and then exploded in laughter.
“Your acting skills are still as bad as they were in high school. You’re supposed to hold your stomach when you laugh that loud.”
“Don’t push it,” Jacob said, still laughing.
He turned his body slightly to the right so that he wasn’t facing the front of his house directly on, but through his laughter he kept a keen eye on his living room window.
“Anything yet?” Rule asked.
“Not yet.”
Rule took his eyes off of Jacob and looked to the back of the house once again. By now it was totally dark and nearly impossible to see any of the back of the house without a light.
“Just got movement,” Jacob said.
“Can you see what he looks like?”
“Nope. Just got a glimpse.”
Rule turned to Rudy and Carl, “Jacob just got confirmation. Guy’s in the front of the house.”
“Okay, let’s move in,” Carl said.
“Rudy and Carl are about to breach the back door,” Rule said to Jacob.
“Okay. I’m going to pace in front of my car to see if I can get a better look.”
Rudy and Carl quickly shuffled to the back door. Rule had a hard time seeing them from where he stood, but he was able to make out their outlines.
“Rudy and Carl are in position,” Rule said.
“Okay. Hold off until I get a visual again.”
Rule saw Jacob pace in front of his car smiling and laughing. From time to time Jacob reached for his stomach and threw his head back as if he just heard the funniest joke.
A few seconds later, Jacob said into the phone, “Got him. He’s right next to the window.”
“Good. I’ll give Carl and Rudy the go-ahead. When you hear their voices, fly to the front door.”
“Got it.”
Rule whistled, which was the go-ahead for Rudy and Carl to breach. However, just as he finished his whistle, he saw headlights from a car slow down near Jacob. The car passed Jacob, but not before the thunderous clap of gunfire boomed through the quiet night.
Seventy-nine
Rule had just said into my ear that he was giving Carl and Rudy the go-ahead when I spotted a car driving slowly along my street. I didn’t pay any mind at first, as I was anticipating at any second to hear my back door crash in and then hear Rudy and Carl’s screams that the police were in the house. My palms were a little sweaty, and I was getting that jittery feeling flowing through my body as I waited anxiously.
The car seemed to slow even more the closer it got to me, which caused me to look at it a little harder. The car was a late model white Mercedes E Class. As I stood there waiting for the car to pass, I had a flashback of the day before when I’d spotted the white Lexus down the street from my house. Even though the cars were different, something about the way it was creeping along my street raised my antennas a little. I was getting ready to say something to Rule when I saw a meaty hand emerge from the passenger window with a hand gun aimed at me.
I didn’t have time to think, I only reacted. I dropped to the ground at the same time I heard the pop pop pop of the gun. My car shielded me against the bullets flying toward me. I immediately reached for my sidearm and had it in hand. But the car didn’t speed off like most cars do in a drive-by. As a matter of fact, I didn’t hear it move at all, not until I heard the clatter of more gunfire coming from behind me. I looked up and saw Carl and Rudy firing rounds off into the white Mercedes. Then I heard the tires squeal and the engine rev, moving the car away from its standing position. The car raced along the road for about twenty feet and then hit a large tree head-on.
I raised myself to a kneeling position and took aim at the car as well, but my aim was short-lived because out of the corner of my eye, I saw my front door open, and the Terminator man from the apartment building came out of my house. In one hand he was holding a gun, and in the other he was holding Hal. He yelled and then pointed the gun at Hal’s head.
“Stop firing, stop firing,” I screamed.
Rudy and Carl stopped shooting and then saw what I saw and aimed their guns at the Terminator.
“Hey! Hey! You don’t need to do that,” I said.
The Terminator’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t appear frightened. His right hand was wrapped around Hal’s neck like Hal was a chicken ready to be slaughtered.
“Put down your guns,” he said through a thick Russian accent.
“We can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can.” He shook his right arm, and I could tell by Hal’s facial expression that the Terminator was squeezing his large hand around Hal’s neck.
I looked over at Rudy and Carl and nodded, and they reluctantly lowered their weapons to the ground.
“Tell me what you want,” I said.
“You know what I want.”
“We don’t have it.”
“I’m not so sure of that.”
He squeezed again, and Hal’s face started to turn blue.
“Look, I can’t give you what we don’t have,” I said.
“Don’t say it to me. Tell Mr. Oborski.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“He wants to see you.”
“That’s not happening.”
The Terminator shook his arm again, “Then he dies.”
My gun was still aimed, “So will you.”
I was worried about Hal. I could tell that the Terminator was squeezing the life out of him and knew that if something wasn’t done in the next minute or so, Hal wouldn’t make it. I stared at the Terminator and saw in his eyes that he was a lunatic. I realized just then that he didn’t care if he died.
I pulled up my aim and lowered my weapon, “Okay, okay. We’ll go see this Oborski guy.”
A psychotic smile crept along the Terminator’s face. He didn’t let go of Hal; in fact it looked as though he was squeezing harder.
“Let him go,” I pleaded. “We’ll go with you.”
Just then, something happened that made the psychotic smile quickly turn into a grimace. The Terminator’s eyes rolled in the back of his head, and then the strong grip he had on Hal went limp. He fell forward to the ground, and when he hit I saw a knife protruding from his back. Rule stepped from inside my house and stood over the Terminator with a blank stare on his face.
I quickly ran to Hal, as he had fallen with the Terminator. Rudy and Carl both scooped up their weapons and aimed them at the large man with a knife in his back.
“Hal, you okay?”
His voice was hoarse, but he nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Police sirens started to blare in the background.
I looked up, and Rule was staring blankly at the dead man on the ground. Rule’s hands were shaking, and it looked as though his body was trembling. I think for a second, his brain may finally have said, Enough is enough, you’ve been through enough.
He fell to his knees and started sobbing. I let Hal sit under his own strength and then consoled my friend who had just killed a third person in one day.
Police sirens grew closer, but I knew that this wasn’t anywhere near the end.
Part Three
Eighty
Detective Pat sat in the lobby of the restaurant and waited for her date, Tim, to show up. Reservations were for 8:30, and the last time Pat looked at her watch the time was 8:25. He texted her that he’d been running late, but that he should be there within ten minutes. Strike one, she thought to herself as she made a mental image of a check being marked off on a checkbox. The quickest way to get under her skin was to be late, especially on the first date.
She stood up and let the receptionist know that she was going to take a seat at the bar. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she did enjoy a glass of Moscato from time to time. Plus, the light alcohol might help take off a little of the edge that she was feeling.
At the bar, there was a mix of couples ranging in age and race who were
probably waiting, like she was, for their tables to be ready. She didn’t have to call for the bartender to make her a drink; he had already met her where she was sitting and asked for her order.
She looked at her watch as the bartender poured her wine. Eight thirty had come and gone, and she thought to herself that if Tim wasn’t there by the time she finished her drink that she was going to leave and write this date off as another failed attempt.
“Whoever he is,” the bartender said, “if he doesn’t show up, you can always sit and chat with me.”
“What makes you think that I’m waiting for someone?”
“You keep looking at your watch, and then you kinda frown when you realize what time it is. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve seen quite a few women get stood up from this side of the bar.”
Pat smiled, “Hey, well at least then I’d know what kinda jerk he is, right.”
The bartender dipped his head, “Touché.”
Pat took a sip of her wine and, before she could remove the glass from her lips, she heard Tim’s voice behind her.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not too familiar with the area.”
She didn’t turn around until after she swallowed. Great excuse. She looked at the bartender, and he gave a halfhearted smile before tending to the other patrons. Pat turned around and tried to ignore the charming smile that was gleaming at her. She also tried to ignore the bright blue eyes and seemingly uncanny resemblance that Tim had to Brad Pitt. She tried to ignore them, but she couldn’t.
“You know you had about five minutes left before I was going to walk out.”
“Really? I was thinking I had like two and then I would have been eating by myself.”
Pat smiled and took a sip of her wine. “Okay. I’ll chalk this one up as a lesson learned.”
Tim nodded. “Lesson learned. Next time I’ll leave a little earlier when I don’t know where I’m going.” He turned around and looked at the hostess. “Let’s see if our table is ready.”
“Should be. It’s only been sitting unused for the past ten minutes.” Pat smiled.
“Good one.”
Tim turned and headed for the hostess. Pat followed but hesitated a little to check out Tim’s backside. Not bad, she thought. Not bad at all.
The hostess moved away from the front podium and motioned for them to follow her. She led them to a quaint table for two where Tim pulled out Pat’s chair for her to sit and then pushed it in once she sat.
“What are you drinking?” Tim asked.
“Moscato. I like its sweetness.”
“So do I. Think I’ll have the same.”
When the waiter came, Tim ordered a glass of wine. As he did, Pat couldn’t help looking at his upper body through his fitted, black, collared shirt. When the waiter left, she quickly averted her eyes, but she knew it wasn’t fast enough because Tim caught her staring.
“So, Detective. Catch any bad guys today?”
Pat thought it was cute the way he stressed the word detective. “Nope. Today was one of those desk days. I was on the computer for most of it doing research.”
“What’s it like knowing that you have the power to put someone away for a long time?”
“Never thought about it really. Before I joined the force, I thought being a cop was going to be like all those shows that used to come on TV. But the reality is that police work is rather boring.”
“Really? I would have thought like you. TV really makes it seem so exciting being a cop.”
“Well, I haven’t been a detective that long, but I must say that my partner has seen some pretty interesting stuff. His life is like a movie.”
“You don’t say. What kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know. Just stuff that movies are made of. Take the case that he and I are working on. His best friend’s family just got murdered the other day, and we believe that the Russian Mafia was behind it.”
“Really? The Russian Mafia? Wait, is that the murder that was on the news the other day?”
Pat nodded. “I feel terrible for Jacob and Rule.”
“Jacob? That’s your partner’s name?”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy, kind of like a big brother to me.” Pat took another sip of her wine. “But, enough about work. Let’s talk a little about you.”
The waiter returned with Tim’s glass of wine. The two raised glasses and then took a sip.
“Actually, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the ladies’ room.”
Tim stood up with Pat.
“I’ll order you another glass of wine,” Tim said.
“Okay. Just a little, though.”
“Right. Just a little.”
Pat turned around and started walking to the bathroom. As she walked away, she felt Tim’s eyes following her, and she kind of liked it.
Eighty-one
Crime scene technicians had just completed their tasks. The bodies of two men from the car and the Russian who broke into my house were wrapped in body bags and taken to the morgue. Rule was sitting on one of my couches in the living room with his head resting against its back and his eyes closed. I wanted Hal to go to the hospital to get checked out, but he said that he was fine. After the initial questioning as to what happened, I sent him home to comfort his wife. Rudy and Carl were outside walking other detectives through what happened.
Once the local media got wind that police detectives shot multiple times at a car, it didn’t take them long to set up outside my house. Another hour and a half from now, my house would be the backdrop on the ten o’clock news with anchors giving the latest on the shootout with police. The massive attention also brought over Captain Hellsworth, which wasn’t necessarily a good conversation.
When he entered my house, I was sitting on the couch next to Rule. He motioned with his head for me to come over, and then we walked into the kitchen to have a private conversation.
“First off,” he said with a little compassion in his voice, “you guys are okay, right?”
“We are. My neighbor’s a little bruised, but otherwise we’re all okay.”
He nodded. When he spoke again, the compassion wasn’t there. “How the hell could you let this happen without calling in backup?”
“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this,” I said. “Those guys in the car came out of nowhere and just started shooting. Rudy and Carl returned fire, and then the guy who was in my house came out holding Hal as a hostage.”
“You know what I mean, Jacob. Don’t turn into one of those cops. Because that’s a quick way to be one of those unemployed cops. Know what I mean?”
I nodded my head, “Yes, sir.”
He backed off a little and then the compassion returned to his voice. “How’s Rule holding up? I understand he’s the one who killed the Russian?”
“Doing as good as anyone could in his situation. He saved Hal’s life.”
Captain Hellsworth nodded. “I’ll see to it that no charges are brought against him.” He rubbed his moustache and then his chin. “So where are we with this whole mess? How are you connecting everything?”
“It’s shit, that’s what it is.”
I filled in Captain Hellsworth with the information that we’d found out about Rule’s father and Mr. Cardinal. I told him about the videotape and that it was the reason why Rule’s family was killed.
“And no one has a clue where this videotape is?”
“None whatsoever. But after what we’ve gone through, I’m inclined to believe that it still exists. These people wouldn’t go through all of this if they weren’t sure it still existed.”
“So, where do we go from here?”
“We look for this Mr. Oborski guy.”
Captain Hellsworth nodded and then patted me on the shoulder. “Keep me in the loop, and don’t pull none of this macho bullshit again. Understood?”
“Understood.”
He left the kitchen, and I turned and watched him walk through the living room and then bend down to say something
to Rule. Rule opened his eyes, and then the two shook hands.
I leaned against the counter and tried to clear my head to think about my next move. Who is this Mr. Oborski and how do we find him? Is he the man behind all of this? The Russian seemed pretty adamant that we see him. Then it dawned on me that I’d heard his name before. Uncle Happy had said it before he led us to the slaughter. When you come back, I’ll have to tell you about Lev Oborski. That was the connection between the Russians, the CIA, and Uncle Happy. Lev Oborski.
We find him and we find our killer.
Eighty-two
Lev Oborski saw the ten o’clock news. He saw the body bags being carted away. He saw the detective in the background go into his house. The news reporter, a blond-haired women with semi-attractive features, said that a D.C. detective’s house had been broken into and that the person who broke into the house also had a hostage. She said that investigators didn’t know how long the intruder had been in the house, but that when the D.C. detective and his fellow officers came to the house, they were bombarded by a drive-by shooter and then attacked by the intruder.
Three suspects were dead, she said. The hostage was doing fine. Investigators were trying to determine why the detective’s house had been broken into in the first place, and if there was a link to the drive-by shooters. Lev Oborski raised the remote and turned off the television. The room was dark except for a faint light coming from the bathroom in the hallway. He sat on a cushioned chair a few feet away from the bed in silence. He thought. Two of his best men were dead. A few goons were dead too. Only a couple of goons were left, but they weren’t the type for this kind of a job. They were his protection.
He pushed a button on the chair, and a few minutes later his servant came into the room.
“Lights, sir?”
“Yes.”
The servant turned on the light, which made Lev squint slightly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Get our things. It’s time to go back.”
“Tonight, sir?”
The Game of Life or Death: A Detective Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers (The Jacob Hayden Series Book 3) Page 19